


The Things I Can't Say Are The Things You Need To Hear

by WritingSinsAndTragedies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death(s), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingSinsAndTragedies/pseuds/WritingSinsAndTragedies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dean had picked tails in the coin toss, he wouldn't have lost the bet, he wouldn't have hit his head on the stairs going down to get Bobby's toolkit, and he certainly wouldn't have met and fell in love with a sad eyed boy who needs saving more than he lets on. But Dean picked heads. Destiel AU with possible trigger warnings, so beware! ((Story summary taken from "Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac," but that's pretty much where the similarities end)).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joy And Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This is the edited copy of my first fanfiction published on Fanfiction.net. Now, I've already finished this story, so my updates will be really fast (like maybe a couple of chapters per day) since all I have to do is edit and then post it.  
> Warning: Now there are some MAJOR trigger warnings (Suicide, mental disease, referenced character deaths), so please tread carefully while reading this fic. Do NOT put any strain on your emotional/mental state just to read this.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Supernatural (they belong to Eric Kripke and their other fabulous [*cough, cough* cruel] writers/creators), but I do own the rights to this fanfiction. Do not violate these rights (plagiarize, do anything related to it without my permission, etc), or there will be consequences. I've already had one person try to claim this work as their own. I do not want to go through that again. Lyrics/Inspiration for the first chapter is from "Hospital Beds" by Florence + The Machine (if you couldn't already tell, I'm sort of a fan of them...).

                For almost all of his life, Dean Winchester was always known to be one lucky son of a bitch. He was the guy who always found lost money on the street, who always won those stupid school drawings for some cheap-ass prize they mustered up the money to buy, who always seemed to find a four leaf clover just moments after he stepped outside, and who’d never heard a girl ever say no to him. Now, his baby brother Sammy may have gotten all the smart genes in the family, but at least Dean had enough good fortune that he could skid by school with mostly solid C’s every year (and maybe a few D’s, but his mother didn’t need to know about that) and always managed to successfully pass mind-numbing classes by some miracle (that, or the teachers just get too tired of his bullshit throughout the year and pass him so they won’t have to deal with him again to save their sanity).

                Anyway, like he was saying, Dean was pretty freaking lucky at all hours of the day, so when his younger brother Sammy betted whoever lost the coin toss has to go down to the cellar and get Uncle Bobby’s toolkit, Dean thought he had no reason not to agree.

                “Okay, call it.” Sam said as he flipped the coin high in the air with all his might.

                Dean cracked a smile, “Heads since that’s the side of the coin where I get most of my pick-up lines from.”

                Sam rolled his eyes as he caught the coin effortlessly and put his palm over it, “Seriously, how am I related to you?”

                The oldest Winchester brother shrugged, “I guess you finally got lucky for once.” Sam scoffed but instead of replying, he just removed his hand and peeked at the coin. Dean knew his eighteen year streak of luck was threatened when he saw Sammy split into a smug grin. When Dean finally found the nerve to look down at the coin for the truth, he ultimately decided that maybe he should’ve picked rock, paper, scissors to determine this bet instead.

                As he gazed down at the coin, he saw not the familiar head of George Washington on the quarter that was flipped but a giant freaking eagle instead, forcing him to come to terms that his kid brother had beaten _him,_ Dean Freaking Winchester, who was also known as the luckiest man on earth, in a bet that required not dorky book smarts but actual true _luck._

                “Sammy, I think we just stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone.” Dean announced weakly as he somehow felt a tad bit light-headed.

                Sam rolled his eyes, “And you say _I’m_ the drama queen.”

                Dean steadied himself finally and glared at his brother, “Bitch.”

                “Jerk.” His reply was effortlessly quick, more of a reflex saying than an actual thought out comeback. They had always swapped back these insulting names towards each other ever since Dean was just a kid himself (though back then, they at least had enough sense not to say them in front of their mother who would heavily scold Dean for his vulgar language while his father would only chuckle in amusement) and over the years, the words had gradually became less malicious and instead had a more affectionate ring to them.

                Dean stood there for a moment with reluctance in his stance and finally Sam just sighed exhaustedly, “Can you please hurry up already? You know Uncle Bobby won’t feed us until we get Rufus’ old car fixed.”

                “Sammy, I’m a little busy having a mid-life crisis right now. I think you could wait to eat your rabbit food later.”

                “You mean existential crisis.”

                Dean stared at him with a confused look on his face until he finally said, “I see your lips moving but all I hear is little bitch.”

                Sam gave him an unamused expression that read as _‘Really?’_ but still went on to explain, “Dean, you couldn’t possibly have a mid-life crisis since you’re still only in high school. But you could have an existential crisis, meaning that you are at a stage of development at which you question the very foundations of your life.”

                Dean rolled his eyes and snorted, though he was strangely proud that his brother, who was a whole four years younger than him, knew more vocabulary than anyone Dean has ever met, “Wow, you have no idea how much of a nerd you just sounded like.”

                Sam gave him a wry smile, “Good thing I always have you to remind me then, huh?” Dean grinned wildly at him before moving his gaze to the dark and eerie dungeon known as Robert Singer’s cellar that was likely one of the most creepiest places ever known at their dead end town of Lawrence, Kansas, and his smile dropped as his nose started to crinkle in disgust.

                Around this town, everybody knew everybody so you usually didn’t get away with anything. Even with Dean’s exceptional kismet, he usually got busted for doing something mischievous and soon ratted out to his parents. So every time something got broken or vandalized (maybe spray painting ‘Sam Winchester wears make-up’ or ‘Metallica Rocks’ wasn’t the most subtle thing to put when you’re Dean Winchester), he was always blamed and either forced into public humiliation by his parents to teach him a lesson or grounded for three weeks from ever driving his precious baby (“But, Mom, she needs regular exercise or she’ll quit running.” “Dean, it’s a car, not a dog!”).

                Dean sighed heavily and reluctantly went down the squishy and molded steps down to the dark room and fumbled for the familiar crusted light switch. He found it soon after and thankfully didn’t get bitten by a poisonous spider like Sam had years ago (he cried like a baby FYI, but he was only five at the time so…). He flipped it on and instantly spotted the bright red toolbox Bobby had mistakenly left down there last week when he was trying to repair the hole in the ceiling that the mice had chewed out. “Jackpot.” Dean mumbled to himself as he quickly swiped the toolkit and made his way up the stairs, flipping the lights off as he passed by.

                Looking back, this was probably where everything started to go wrong. Dean was already half way up the stairs as he briefly took his eyes off of the ground to look through the toolbox to see if it still had the loaded mousetrap he had set up to get Bobby when Dean’s own hand suddenly got clamped down in it. He was so startled by the snapping noise and the immense pain in his right hand that he slipped on a suspicious liquid that was located on one of the final steps and started to fall backwards.

                All he remembered was hearing Sam yell out his name and thinking how he was going to kick Bobby’s ass for being a spiteful bastard and resetting the trap for someone else to fall prey to the stupid trap Dean had set up himself for some petty prank.

                After that, he saw a bright blast of light and everything around him suddenly going pure white.

                He didn’t remember much after he passed out. All he recalled was seeing nothing but pure shining white everywhere around him. But the strange part of it was that he didn’t feel afraid. At all, actually. He just remembered feeling…different.

                Enchanted. Weightless. Purified. Fearless. You know, all of those adjective chicks always put into those stupid fanfictions when two characters from a certain fandom gaze at each other for the first time and instantly feel that “connection” (not that he read any of that trash of course….okay, maybe a little but that was only because the Avengers were badass and he would sock anybody in the jaw without a second thought if they said differently).

                It honestly felt like he was flying almost. Like someone with wings swooped him up and started jetting through the sky, protecting him from any upcoming danger like some total mysterious badass. And let him just say how freaking awesome it was. **_Hey,_** Dean thought drowsily as his head continued to spin around and around, **_I could get used to this…_**

                It really felt as though he was only there for just a few seconds; too early for his taste if he does say so himself. But one moment he was being carried through the air in a strong dependable embrace, and the next he was falling alone to his death. Dean tried to scream but it felt like someone had taken a remote control and put him on mute. Sure, he could _feel_ himself screaming but all he could hear is dead silence, and that only made him scream harder.

                He only stopped trying when he heard the most angelic voice ever heard. It was raw and gravelly, and it made Dean’s heart leap out of his broad chest. The tone of the voice was gentle and melodic but it still had enough power to send electrical currents through his body. It was sort of comforting yet strangely haunting at the same time as it rung throughout his eardrums:

                _“I’ve got one friend_

_Laying across from me_

_I did not choose him_

_He did not choose me_

_We have no chance_

_Of recovering_

_Laying in hospitals_

_Joy and misery_

_Joy and misery_

_Joy and misery…”_

Like he was coming back from the dead like a zombie, Dean felt himself choking for air as he sat up abruptly. The sudden brightness was extremely painful for his sensitive eyes and it took a minute for them to adjust to the highly brightened room. Once he could finally see, Dean looked around and discovered his old torn clothes he was previously wearing were replaced with a simple breezy hospital gown. He glanced around and found two IVs in his arms and a few odd machines surrounding him. It took awhile for his unsteady breath to even out but when it did, he finally came to the obvious conclusion that he was at Lawrence’s pathetic excuse of a hospital where there weren’t nearly enough rooms as there were patients so they normally just stuck two or three people together per tiny room with not a single thing in there except an even tinier bathroom to the side. Speaking of sharing rooms…

                It only took him a few seconds to finally look straight ahead to see a frail boy with sickly pale skin humming to himself the tune Dean had heard previously during his mid-fall. The boy’s wide eyes were glued to the chessboard that was sitting in his lap and it only took a second for him to realize he was being watched as he finally looked up to meet Dean’s green eyed gaze. He looked no more than sixteen and despite his ill appearance, the boy was honestly one of the most attractive males Dean has ever seen (that title goes to Robert Downey Jr., though that is a hard expectation to beat) and Dean had trouble forming word as he stared into his pure ocean blue eyes.

                After what seemed like an eternity of just staring at each other like complete imbeciles, a corner of the boy’s mouth lifted into a half smile and it almost took Dean’s breath away, “It’s extremely pleasant to see you’re finally awake, Mr. Winchester. You have been out for quite awhile.”

                Dean had so many questions running through his mind but it was as though someone had stolen his voice box so he just nodded numbly like an idiot. But just as Dean’s mere acknowledgement of the boy’s statement, his puny excuse of a smile split into a full blown grin as his magnificent gaze shifted downward to the chessboard, “Would you fancy a game of chess with me, Dean?”


	2. Even The Little People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by Snow Patrol's creepy song "Spitting Games" (which I absolutely adore, among their other equally awesome songs).

                **_What the hell did he just say? Oh right, chess…_**

                Dean’s mind was scrambling as he stared slightly dumbstruck at the boy until he forced his mouth to speak, though the words weren’t exactly what he wanted to say, “Who the hell are you?” **_Real freaking smooth, Dean._**

                Despite his blunt and rude tone, the boy’s friendly smile never faltered, “My name is Castiel Novak.” There was a slight pause before he added, “And you are Dean Winchester, in case you don’t remember.”

                Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that the boy knew his name and he opened his mouth to ask the million questions that buzzed through his mind, but the boy cocked his head and went on, “Now that we have our introductions out of the way, what is your stance on playing chess with me? Though I must warn you in advance, I’ve been practicing a lot in here and I have already beaten Ms. Missouri twenty-six times in a row.”

                Dean stared at him questionably for a moment before finally saying, “Sorry, Man, but I don’t know how to play.”

                Seeing that he hadn’t outwardly refused his offer, the boy’s eyes started to sparkle in delight, making it obvious he wasn’t used to kids his age—hell, probably even people in general—being kind to him, “That is quite alright, Dean. I can teach you if you wish.”

                Dean nodded but then looked down to the needles sticking in his arm and sighed, “I wish I could, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

                The boy, _Castiel_ , frowned slight but nodded understandingly, “Yes, that is very unfortunate.”

                “What kind of name is Castle, anyway?” Dean blurted out, knowing he was saying the name wrong but couldn’t remember how to pronounce it. Damn those stupid blue eyes and their increasing habit to make him forget so many things at once.

                The boy’s small smile returned and he could’ve swore he saw the younger boy blush slightly, “It’s Castiel, angel of Thursday.”

                Dean snorted, “What sort of parents name their kid Castiel?”

               At the slight mentioning of his parents, the boy’s smiled faded away and was replaced with such a sorrowful expression that Dean wanted so badly to take back his words just to see his smile again. But instead of flipping over to face the other side to ignore him, or even worse yelling (though he could never imagine such a scrawny cheery guy like to ever raise his voice at _anyone_ ), the boy just stared at him for a second before cocking his head and stating bluntly, “Did you know the origin of the word Thursday is derived from the Old English word Punresdaeg or the Middle Eastern word Thuresday, which is then transferred into ‘Thunor’s Day’ in English? Thunor, or most commonly known as Thor, is a hammer wielding Norse God mostly associated with thunder and was one of the most respected deities of his time. He was also known as the protector of Mankind.”

               There was a beat of silence, “Some people refer to Thursday as Friday Eve, which is commonly used in anticipation for the upcoming weekend. During the 1960s in the United States, if you wore green on Thursday in high school, it meant you were homosexual.” Dean waited patiently to see if Castiel was going to go on yet another rant but the boy stayed silent, instead just staring at Dean with his chilling blue eyes and head tilted, waiting for his response.

                Finally, Dean just lick his lips and cleared his throat, “Well, that’s um…interesting—“

                “Do you wear green on Thursdays, Dean?” Castiel blurted out, narrowing his eyes at him. **_Well, I do find you a complete all manner of hot so…_**

                “W-What? Me? No, of course not!” Dean ended up saying all at once, his face reddening under the intensity of Castiel’s gaze. Dean’s eyes snapped to the floor as he tried to regain his cool, cursing himself for acting like some homophobic asshole when that’s not what he is at all (hell, even one of his best friends was a lesbian). He didn’t know why, but there was just something about that guy watching him like he was some fascinating foreign specimen from another planet made Dean completely on edge.

                It was silent for a minute (and he means _exactly_ a minute because Dean counted to keep his mind anywhere but here) before Dean cleared his throat and asked, “So uh…do you wear green on Thursdays then?” He dared to sneak a glance upward and found Castiel opening his mouth to reply when the front door to their room busted open. A young girl that looked no more than seventeen stepped in with dark autumn hair and kind light green eyes that stared straight at Dean, her mouth dropping in surprise, “M-Mr. Winchester,” She said when she finally found her voice, looking somewhat similar to a deer caught in headlights, “Y-You’re awake.”

                Dean’s eyes lingered on Castiel longer than he would’ve liked to admit until they finally found their way onto the girl and he smiled, “So I’ve been told. And as everyone else seems to already know, I’m Dean Winchester. It’s nice to meet you, Miss…?”

                “Allen,” She supplied as she hesitantly walked over to him and offered her hand, “Daphne Allen. I-I was in your Algebra class sophomore year, remember?”

                Dean sighed in realization as he shook her hand, recalling one of his “friends” named Alastair talking about the girl that sat behind him in his math class that practically acted like a saint who usually only dated troubled loner guys in attempt to save them by picking up the remains of their broken life and make them whole again, but once she feels her job is done, she dumps them faster than Dean could even finish saying the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, “It’s nice to see you again, Daphne.” He sent her one of his best smiles and like expected, she went as red as most of the girls do. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would work on Castiel…

                **_No, you are a man, Dean Winchester. You do not wear green on Thursdays. You like women and that is final._** Dean sighed subconsciously, not particularly feeling the energy to fight himself on the matter and just instead decided to focus on the hot piece of meat in front of him as he smiled broadly, “I didn’t know they paid kids to care of the sick,” He told her, keeping his tone light and flirty, “Damn, I could’ve made bank of Sammy this flu season alone.”

                “Actually, Dean, they don’t pay candy stripers.” Castiel piped up, getting in on the conversation. At the sound of Castiel’s voice, Daphne’s pupils dilated as her posture went rigid. She immediately said goodbye to Dean and went straight to Castiel’s bed. She grinned widely as she asked him, “And is my favorite little miracle today?”

                “Remarkably well considering I finally have some company now.” Castiel replied as he smiled up at her. His blue eyes darted to Dean for only maybe a half a second before going back to Daphne. Dean watched how freely and easily the conversation flew between the two and he started to wonder how long Castiel had been here to get so good at chess that he beaten an employee over twenty times in a row and get so chummy with a girl when he is the most peculiar and random boy Dean had ever met.

**_It’s probably the eyes the chicks go for_** , Dean thought to himself until something extremely important came to mind. “Um, excuse me? Daphne and Scooby Doo?” Daphne frowned at his meager attempt as a joke and reluctantly switched his gaze onto Dean while Castiel just looked at him with a perplexed expression, like he somehow didn’t even get the reference. But that couldn’t be possible since everyone has grown up watching the Mystery Gang catching bad guys in ridiculous costumes…right?

                “Do you know what day it is, Miss Allen?”

                Daphne’s irritated frown evaporated instantly and a sympathetic expression that Dean didn’t like one bit worked its way onto her face, “It’s Wednesday, Dean.”

                He let out a relieved breath and closed his eyes, smiling to himself, “Good. That means I was only out for a day. I was afraid it was gonna be, like, a week or something.”

                “No, Dean, today’s Wednesday…July sixth.” Daphne told him softly, making Dean’s eyes snap open and bulge out.

                “W-What?” Dean asked dumbstruck, remembering it feeling like just minutes ago he was at Uncle Bobby’s when it was only the beginning of _June_ as they had just let school out. Daphne didn’t reply and just looked at him with an empathetic expression, but Dean didn’t have any time to be angry at her pity.

“B-But that means I was out for a month though,” Dean stated nervously, shaking his head, “And I was just at my uncle’s in  _June._ I mean, maybe you just got your months mixed up, Sweetheart.”

                “I apologize, Dean, but Daphne’s right,” Castiel told him gently, looking at him with an unreadable expression, “I was here when they first delivered you five weeks ago. Now, I know this may be shocking—“

                _"Shocking?"_ Dean hissed viciously, allowing himself to fully freak the fuck out now, “This is more than shocking, Dude. This is insane! I-I mean, you guys are nuts! I was gone for maybe two minutes before I woke up. Saying that it’s been weeks is ridiculous…”

               In the middle of Dean’s rant, Daphne had turned to Castiel and said quietly, “I should probably report back to my boss that he’s awake so they can call his family.” Castiel nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Dean, which only made him freak out further as he babbled on about things not even Dean himself was listening to anymore, but the slight mention of his family slowed his words to a complete stop.

                Mom. Dad. Bobby. Jo. Ellen. Ash. Sammy…oh shit, how the hell did Sam take it? The boy practically idolized his big brother and Dean going into a coma, something that Sam probably idiotically thought was his fault just because he was the one who won the coin toss, would’ve surely killed him. And just think how his parents took the news. The images in his mind of how they all took it were completely maddening.

                Even though it didn’t even make sense to himself, Dean somehow felt completely responsible for their suffering and felt guilty, even though _he_ was the one that got physically hurt. **_I guess my luck turned sour very fast and very fast._**

“Dean, are you alright?” He faintly heard Castiel ask him but he wasn’t able to reply back right away.

                “Alright?” Dean demanded hoarsely once he finally recovered his voice, “I just went into a freaking comatose state all because I fell down some stupid stairs! I mean, my family has been going through hell for the past five weeks while I’ve been like the naked guy at a rave—completely useless! How the hell could I ever be _alright_?”

                Castiel stayed silent for a few moments and Dean had finally shut him up but the boy spoke again, “If it helps, your brother, Sam, had spent an hour with you every day since you were brought in here.”

                Dean’s anger finally faded at the mentioning of Sam as he laid back down and closed his eyes, sighing to himself, “That does sound like him.” There was a beat of silence before Dean got the nerve to ask, “Was he upset?”

                “At first, yes,” Castiel replied hesitantly, “But over time, Sam began to speak to you about normal things as if you were awake instead of just repeating how sorry he was for winning something. I believe it was a coin toss or something to that degree of less importance.” Castiel saw Dean’s expression and quickly added, “Don’t worry, Dean. Everyone knows it wasn’t at all Sam’s fault. He is an extremely intelligent boy. I mean, the few times we’ve conversed together, he revealed to be more mature to talk to than both my other older brothers combined.”

                Dean opened his eyes and looked over to him, “You guys talked to each other?”

                Castiel nodded and smiled, “Well, sometimes Sam grew tired of his and your one-sided conversations and talked to the only other person in the room. But I assure you, Dean, we had only spoken about academics…and you, of course.”

                “Uh…that’s sort of creepy.” Dean remarked carelessly but once he saw Castiel’s hurt and offended expression, he quickly added, “It’s just creepy because I don’t even know you, Dude. I mean, I like to actually meet people before they start talking about me to others.”

                Castiel’s eyes widened at his last statement and he gazed at him with a sense of…understanding before he quietly said, “Me too.”

                Dean stared out him curiously for a long moment before he blurted out flatly, “Do I know you, Castiel?”

                Castiel furrowed his brow as his blue eyes reflected confusion, “I beg your pardon?”

                “You look around my age, you look like somebody who’d easily be the smartest kid in any class, you look like somebody I would’ve noticed, you look like somebody I’d _remember_ …but I’ve never seen you before in my whole life. I mean, I’ve met every kid in this whole damn town and I’ve never seen you around _at all_. Did you just move here or have you just been living in this hospital your entire life?”

                Castiel’s confused face soon turned into a horribly tortured expression as he stared at Dean with saddened eyes, and suddenly Dean wanted to immediately withdraw his too blunt statements but before he had the chance, Castiel moved his gaze to the tiled floor as he scoffed almost inaudibly, “I’m nobody, who are you? Are you nobody, too?”

                Dean’s mouth fell ajar as his eyes widened in shame, “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that you were a nobody just because I—“

                “Emily Dickens.” Castiel interrupted bluntly, all emotion in his previous tone had completely drained away and was replaced with a stiff and numb voice that reminded Dean of a brainless robot.

                “Um…come again?”

                “The quote I just stated,” Castiel explained to him slowly as he finally moved his forever un-blinking eyes upward to pierce through Dean’s heart, “It’s by Emily Dickens. She was the most intelligent and influential woman of her time period, though most people of our generations don’t even recognize the name, much less her poetry.” As if on cue, his head cocked to the side, ”Now isn’t that just mortifying, Dean?”

                Dean couldn’t help but let out a small breath of relief that Castiel was just quoting an old chick that rhymes for a living instead of being upset (though deep down, Dean knew his words had hurt Castiel more than the little guy would ever let on), “Yea, it’s completely terrifying. I mean, I almost pissed my pants I was so scared.”

                “Mortifying doesn’t mean scary, Dean.” Castiel informed him, though his small curious smile was finally back so Dean considered it a win. Dean grinned at him but then noticed something strange. Despite Castiel’s horribly ill appearance, there wasn’t a single needle sticking in him or machine surrounding him; just a hospital bed with a very sickly looking boy in it who apparently wasn’t sick enough to have anything done to him.

                “Hey, Castiel?”

                “Yes, Dean?”

                “Why’re you in this joint, anyway?”

                Castiel smiled weakly at him, “Malaria.”

                Dean arched an eyebrow, “That’s the shit with poisonous mosquitos, right?”

                Castiel sighed and chuckled, a sound that made Dean’s heart want to slam right out of his ribcage, “That’s not the exact definition of the sickness but you are somewhat correct about the disease infested mosquitos causing the horrid illness.” He then shrugged, “I guess that’s what I get for going out into the outside world for once.”

                Dean smirked, “Well, I went into a coma for trying to go up some stairs to get back outside. So I guess Mother Nature is trying to screw us both then, huh?”

                “It seems so.” He replied with a smile that Dean totally didn’t think was cute (okay, so maybe he did but everyone knows only heterosexuals have enough self-confidence in their straight sexuality and can think other manly men are cute). There was a brief pause of silence before Castiel slipped out of his hospital bed with the chessboard in his hands and moved toward him. Out of some reflex, Dean sat up and crisscrossed his legs to give him room and Castiel slid into the empty place at the foot of Dean’s bed, sitting the chessboard between them. Castiel moved the several different black and white pieces to their rightful places and looked back up at Dean with a quirked eyebrow, “Would you like to start your lesson now?”

                Dean felt his throat go dry at the sudden closeness and busied himself by looking down at the board so he wouldn’t be tempted to count all of the different hues of blue in the strange boy’s eyes, “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

                “My name is Castiel.” He reminded him in an upset tone, offended that Dean had forgotten his name already.

                Dean snickered, “Dude, are you serious?” He looked back up to see that the little guy was deadly serious, which only made it harder to control his growing laughter.

                “It’s just a stupid saying, Man. Lighten up.” Dean chuckled out, grinning widely.

                Castiel’s lips curled into a hesitant smile as he nodded, “As you wish…Steve.”

                Dean knew Castiel didn’t understand why he was laughing so hard and it made him wonder what sort of rock he just crawled out of.

* * *

                It took his family thirty minutes to get there but time flew for Dean as he watched Castiel, now exasperated, try _again_ to teach him the basics of chess.

                “So how come this piece gets to go to wherever the hell it wants?” Dean demanded to know as he pointed at one of the many confusing pieces.

                Castiel sighed tiredly, “It’s called the queen, Dean.”

                “Well, why does the queen get to do whatever the hell she wants while the king basically does shit?”

                “I don’t know. As you could probably tell, I wasn’t around when the game was created.”

                Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Well, at least we know what gender invented this game.”

                “The maker of the game is actually unknown, though most people suspect the origin was from India in sixth century based on the ancient game called, ‘Chaturanga.’ There’s a common folk tale that says a poor old wise man created the game and had shown it to the king to prove that everyone in the kingdom was important, even the little people. It’s shown on the chessboard that the king needs his queen, rooks, bishops, knights, and even the pawns to survive and conquer. The wise man showed that it was like this in real life and taught the king a lesson. The king soon fell in love with the game and ordered everyone in the kingdom to play it, and it soon spread to the Arab countries and so on. Though some scholars argue that the real birth of the game was China so it is still truly a mystery.”

                Dean stared at him in amazement for a moment and Castiel just furrowed his brow, “I’m sorry, did I say something to offend? I tend to do that often to people on accident. I mean, Rachel always tells me I have no filter so some statements just fly right out of my mouth—“

                “How do you know all that shit?” Dean blurted out, interrupting Castiel from his nervous ranting.

                Castiel shrugged as he looked back down at the board, his slender fingers thumbing along one of the white pieces (Dean’s already forgotten its name even though Castiel had explained it to him for the fifth time just minutes ago), “When I’m interested in something, I tend to go to the extreme by wanting to know everything about it. When I was five, it was poetry. When I was eight, it was pottery. Twelve, it was architecture. A few months ago, my uncle bought me a chessboard and the rest is history.”

                Dean continued to stare at him strangely and Castiel just busied himself so he wouldn’t have to meet Dean’s gaze. When Dean realized that Castiel wasn’t going to say anything, he found himself splitting into a bright grin and chuckled, “I must say, Castiel, you are one hell of an enigma.”

                Apparently, Castiel wasn’t expecting that reaction from him because he jerked his head up to stare at him with a confused expression, “Was that sarcasm?”

                Dean furrowed his brow and quickly shook his head, “No, I mean it. Why? You never had a compliment before?”

                Castiel swallowed hard but didn’t look away from Dean as he continued to stare at him before replying, “Not very much so. My family believes in ‘constructive criticism’ and always say that compliments are something to be earned instead of throwing them around carelessly.”

                “Well, um…that’s kind of awful.” Is all Dean could think to say as he shifted his focus on the black horse chess piece.

                “It’s quit alright, Dean. They do it to teach me a lesson, not to outwardly harm me.”

                “That’s still pretty cruel though,” Dean told him strongly, “I mean, my parents—“

                “I said it’s okay.” Castiel almost snapped as Dean looked up to see his blue eyes lit up in annoyance, “I do not require any pity nor criticism towards my family from anyone; especially from _you_.”

                Dean was sort of hurt by his last statement but didn’t let it show as he threw up his hands in mock surrender, “Right, sorry. My bad.”

                Castiel nodded in satisfaction and looked back down to the board, “Now, the pieces in the front are known as pawns. They can only—“ He was interrupted by the door busting open and Dean’s family stepping into the room.

               His mother had bags under her eyes that Dean had probably caused but a sunshine expression as she quickly moved toward his bed and embraced him. Dean was so focused on his family, he didn’t notice that Castiel had already slipped away from him and sat back down on his own bed, glancing at Dean and his family out of the corner of his eye ever so often with a strange glint in them. His father looked just as tired as Dean’s mother but there was a bright smile on his face at seeing his oldest finally awake and moving again. Sam was blinking back manly tears as he moved towards his brother and patted him on the back, “Good to see you’re awake, Dude.”

                “Feeling pretty damn good to be back, Sammy.” Dean replied in an excited tone, practically glowing at the sight of his (very tired and stressed) family again, though it felt like it was just this morning they were all at the Harvelle Roadhouse having breakfast as they teased Jo about a guy named Garth that was practically stalking her now and talking about Sammy’s decision to abandon the family business (their dad and Uncle Bobby were pretty famous mechanics around this town but considering Lawrence’s small population, it didn’t pay much) and had the bright idea of going to Stanford to become some hotshot lawyer.

                Sam grinned back and took his eyes briefly off of his brother to look at the other hospitalized boy in the room, “Hey, Castiel.” Surprisingly, the boy just nodded and looked back up at the ceiling, trying to make his staring at Dean every so often as least noticeable as possible.

                All previous thoughts and curiosities of Castiel were banished from Dean’s mind for his full focus was on his grieving family. He smiled widely as he saw the water filled in everyone’s—even his dad’s—eyes, “It’s good to see that I was missed.”

                Dean’s mother stroked his face and smiled, her perfect white teeth starting to appear, “Everyone’s missed you, Sweetheart. We’ve told everybody around about you finally waking and we’re going to have a celebration for you soon.”

                “That’s awesome, Mom. Thanks.” Dean lied as he put up a fake smile. In all honesty, Dean doesn’t really want any of his so called “friends” that he’s forced to tolerate in this town anywhere near him until school rolls back around when he has to and just wanted his family—including Bobby and the Harvelles both those are a given even though none of them are blood related—to surround him and catch him up on all the shenanigans he had missed when he was playing the part of sleeping beauty.

                His dad saw through his pathetic façade and thankfully went to his rescue, “Now, Mary, the boy’s been through hell and back these past few weeks. I think he just needs his rest for a few days when we get home.”

                “He just spent more than a month resting,” Sam pointed out, ”I think he can find some strength to party and eat some pie—“

                “Did you say pie?” Dean demanded, his eyes widening in anticipation. His mouth did feel dry and his stomach felt like it hadn’t eaten in weeks (which was highly accurate considering the only nutrients he had gotten in his system had been pump into him through a tube). He could just taste his mom’s famous apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream now…

                “Alright, I’m ready to party.” Dean told them flatly, deciding that just a sliver of his mom’s sweet special kind of pastry was definitely worth having to put up with pompous two-faced jackasses that only hang around him because he’s the star of the football team and everybody either wants him and/or wants to _be_ him. Seriously, it’s like everybody at his school think he’s some sort of divine idol or something when he pretty much treats every single student there (except the few rare people that care more about him than his reputation) like pure shit.

                His mother beamed and opened her mouth to reply when a smooth southern voice said behind her, “I’m afraid Mr. Winchester can’t go home yet until we do a few tests to make sure there’s nothin’ wrong goin’ on in his system.” Dean leaned to the left to look past his mother and saw a heavy set dark skinned woman staring at them expectantly, her comforting demeanor was practically warming the whole room with its presence.

                His mother turned around to see the woman and stuck out her hand, smiling friendly at her, “Hello, my name is Mary Winchester, I’m Dean’s mother.” She then looked to his dad and brother, “And this is my husband, John, with our other son, Sam.”

                “I’m Missouri, one of the nurses that’s forced to work in this hellhole.” She introduced in a serious tone, though there was a ghost of a smile on her face as she grasps his mom’s hand and gave it a firm shake before releasing it. It finally occurred to Dean that this was the nurse Castiel was speaking about earlier as he briefly glanced back at the boy who had practically disappeared into the shadows.

               As if like clockwork, Castiel’s blue eyes soon flickered to Dean and their gazes locked. Castiel only held his gaze for maybe a second before looking back down to fiddle with his hospital bracelet. Dean smiled at him but the boy seemed determined to avoid his gaze. It shouldn’t have hurt him as much as it did since he barely knew the kid, but him ignoring Dean as soon as other people came into the room had strangely stung. Probably because he’s so used to most people only talking to him the second others come around.

                Dean looked away and put his focus back on his mom as she smiled kindly at the nurse, “It’s lovely to meet you, Missouri.” She then took a quick glance at Dean before settling her gaze back on Missouri, “So, when will he be able to come back home with us?”

                Missouri sighed and thought about it for a moment before finally determining, “We would like to keep him over night just to be careful and if everythin’ goes smoothly, like I’m sure it will, then you can pick him up first thin’ tomorrow mornin’.” His family seemed to deflate at this new and it made Dean’s heart ache at the sight, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. It’s direct orders from the hospital so he probably couldn’t convince his mom to go against the professionals even though _Dean was perfectly fine!_ A little tired feeling (which is sort of hard to believe considering all he did was sleep through this whole thing), but he could probably sleep more soundly in his own bed than this rickety old deathtrap of a mattress that likely only gets cleaned once a week. Just thinking about all the people who had died in that exact same bed had given him _deathly_ chills (at least the coma hadn’t taken away his stupid sense of humor).

                “Can we stay here with him?” Sam asked her, wanting to stick to Dean like glue now that he’s not brain dead anymore, which was really touching and all but he and Dean both know that he won’t get much sleep with his family around.

                Missouri sighed, “I’m sorry, but since a lot of terrible viruses are runnin’ rapid around here and we have barely enough room as it is, we can’t let non-ill people stay very long for fear that they might catch somethin’. But don’t worry, he ‘ll be safe as long as he don’t go wanderin’ into other people’s rooms.”

                Dean cracked a smile, “I’ll try to keep my curiosities at bay, Ma’am.”

                “You better unless you want to spend the rest of the summer stuck in here havin’ to play chess with a crazy old woman.” Missouri glanced to Castiel and winked, causing the boy to smile sheepishly as a faint shade of pink colored his cheeks.

                “How long can we stay then?” Dean’s father asked the question that had been on all of his family’s mind.

                “We go into night lockdown at nine o’clock tonight.” Missouri answered and looked down to her wrist watch, “Which means you have a few hours with him until then.”

                His family nodded and thanked the nurse as she left the room to give them privacy (well, not really that much since Castiel was there, but still). But right before she disappeared through the door, she had moved smoothly over to Castiel’s bed and slipped something into his hand. She whispered something low into his ear that made Castiel nod. She smiled softly at him for a moment, as a mother would as she tucked her own child into bed, and walked out of the room.

                Dean gave a quick look to what Castiel had in his hand but wasn’t able to take even a peek before the boy quickly stuffed it under his pillow. Dean moved his gaze back to his family, who were watching him with dazzled expressions as they pulled up nearby chairs and surrounded his bed. Dean smiled fondly at each and every one of his family as his mom took one of his hands and gave it a loving squeeze.

                “So,” Dean started as he cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, “What’d I miss?”

* * *

                The three of them talked and talked for a long while about silly unimportant stuff until they found nothing else to discuss. Then they called Uncle Bobby and the Harvelles (which were old friends of the family since John and Bill Harvelle used to be hunting buddies. And after Bill died, they still remained close with Bill’s wife and daughter along with their foster son, Ash) and all of them wanted to talk to Dean as well, so he had to talk to them for another hour or so until it was finally time for lockdown. By the end of the night, Dean barely even had a voice to say goodbye.

                Ellen, who was Bill’s wife, gave him a quick hug and pointed a finger warningly at him, “You get better now, you hear?”

                “Yes, Ma’am.” Dean replied very hoarsely. His dad chuckled as he offered the remaining water in his bottle and Dean gobbled it down without so much as a second thought.

Bill’s daughter, Jo, smiled as she kissed his cheek and gave him a huge hug, “You get some sleep tonight so we can see if I can still kick your ass tomorrow.”

                “You just try, Harvelle.” Dean replied just as teasingly, though he knew all Harvelle girls were spitfires and could be any man’s nightmare in a heartbeat (not that he’d ever admit he was a little scared of them, of course).

               Ash grinned and slapped him on the back, “See you later, Bro. I’ll dish the new details about Jo’s lover boy later when we’re alone.”

               “To hell you will.” Jo hissed, sending him a murderous glare.

               Ash smiled as he planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, “Aw, I love you too, Sissy. And we all know Garth does—“ He was cut off by his own hiss of pain as Jo socked him hard in the gut.

               “Okay, shutting up.” He said weakly, gripping his stomach.

               Ellen scoffed as she rolled her eyes, though there was a twinkle of affection in her eye as she said, “I can’t take you two anywhere without a brawl.” The two grinned in response as all three of them waved goodbye again and left the room.

               “Just try not to fall down anymore, Kid,” Bobby told him gruffly and suddenly smacked Dean on the back of his head, “Especially not at my house, ya Idgit. Your mother about murdered me when she found out I was the one who sent ya down there.”

               “Nah, I wouldn’t have let her rough you up too bad, Bobby.” Dean’s dad assured him, making Bobby roll his eyes.

               “John, you’d be running with your tail tucked between your legs as soon as Mary whipped out that famous frying pan and you know it.” Bobby replied.

               Dean’s dad grinned guiltily and shrugged, “Hey, I get enough whippings from that thing as it is. It’d be nice if she used it on somebody else once in awhile.”

               Mary smiled as she winked to her two sons, “I got ‘em runnin’ scared, now don’t I?” The two Winchester boys chuckled as John and Bobby rolled their eyes.

               Bobby sighed and looked to the clock, “I better get goin’ before Ellen leaves without me.”

               “Oh, I see you’re taking one car together now.” Dean teased, grinning mockingly as he remembered that Ellen and Bobby were kind of an item now. He was a little creeped out at first when he found out four months ago, but he guessed that it sort of made sense since they were both neighbors and widows. Jo and Ash didn’t mind the prospect of Bobby becoming their new step-dad since they had both grown up with the man (well, Ash was seven when he came to stay at the Harvelle household, but he still thought of Bobby as one of his closest family members; as did Jo, though everyone could tell she was nervous at the chance that her real dad was going to get replaced).

               Bobby glared at Dean for a moment, “Shut up.” But soon after, Bobby reached down and pulled Dean into a quick embrace (which mostly never happens since Bobby ain’t the touchy-feely type), “Just take it easy for once, will ya?” Bobby whispered into his ear before pulling away.

               Dean smiled, “Got it.” That seemed to satisfy Bobby because right after he said that, his uncle said goodbye to everyone else before heading out as well. As soon as the door behind him closed, Missouri came into the room seconds later and Dean knew their time was up. But before Dean could even say ‘bye’, his mother had pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed him with all her might, as if she was afraid that if she let go, he would leave them again.

               “It’s okay, Mom.” Dean whispered reassuringly, “It’s not like I’m on my death bed or anything.”

               “Knock on wood.” She replied teary-eyed as she reluctantly pulled away to smile weakly at him. Dean gave her hand another squeeze and she finally just kissed his forehead and moved away.

               His dad ruffled Dean’s dirty blonde hair and smiled, “You take care, Dean. We’ll be back first thing in the morning to pick you up.” Dean nodded and smiled back at his father as he slipped out of the way so Sam could go up beside him. Sam instantly took his place next to Dean and threw his arms around his brother, “Just don’t slip back into a coma, okay?” He whispered hoarsely, obviously trying to hold back his tears.

               Dean chuckled, though the desperate tone of Sam’s upset voice made his own eyes a little wet too, “You are such a little girl.”

               Sam jerked back as he tried his hardest to glare at his brother, though it didn’t have any malicious affect because of Sam’s reluctant smile that planted itself on his fourteen year old baby face, “You’re such a jerk.”

               “I know,” Dean sighed out as he ruffled Sam’s mop of brown hair, “But you love me anyway, Bitch.”

               Sam rolled his eyes but nodded hesitantly at his statement as he, along with their mother and father, moved to the door. Missouri smiled kindly at them as she waved a small goodbye and they returned the gesture. “Night, Dean.” They all called out as the three piled out the door.

               “Later.” Dean called back just before Missouri shut the door. With his mind finally off his family, Dean dared to look at the other hospital bed and found Castiel watching him with an intense gaze, though it wasn’t as much curiosity in his eyes like many times before but of something else. Almost like…envy? No, that couldn’t be it. What would Dean Winchester, whose family barely made enough money to survive, ever have for anyone to want _his_ life? Sure, his life was _okay_ and all but if Dean himself had a choice, he’d pick a much cooler lifestyle like Johnny Depp’s or Billy Joe Armstrong’s.

               His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Missouri making her way over to him. She fiddled with his machines and stuck more needles and tubes into him finally leaning back and humming to herself, “That’ll do, I guess.”

               “Um…Ma’am?”

               “Yes, Dean?”

               “Yea, so…how do I sleep in all this crap?” He wiggled as much as he was able to for emphasis, “I can barely move.”

               “We’re just being precautious so we know if you’ll slip back into a comatose state when you fall asleep.”

               “So…?”

               “So, suck it up.” She replied flatly, shrugging carelessly as she moved towards the door and waved halfheartedly to them, “Night, Sugars.”

               “Pleasant dreams, Ms. Missouri.” Castiel said back, making Dean jump slightly at the sound of his strong deep voice.

               Missouri smiled back at him, “You too, Baby.” And just like that, the door closed, leaving just the odd boy Castiel with a mysterious object under his pillow and Dean with a wide awake mind.

* * *

                They laid there in dead silence for what seemed like an eternity, though the wall clock revealed it was only an hour and a half. Sure, Dean wanted to start a conversation with the boy at first, but always chickened out the second he opened his mouth. So instead, the two just stayed in a dark room in pure silence until Castiel finally said softly, “You have a wonderful family, Dean.” Since he was already half asleep, Dean started yet again at the sound and it took a moment for what Castiel said to process.

                “Yea,” Dean agreed finally, “They’re a wild bunch but they are entertaining to watch.”

“They seem to love you very much,” Castiel went on, as if Dean had never even spoken, “I mean, a family that risks their health in, as Missouri had put it, ‘hellhole’ just to speak to you is quite…rare.”

                Dean shrugged, “Don’t all families do that? I mean, I know they’re a rare bunch of idiots but there ain’t nothing else special about them.”

                “They are lovely,” Castiel told him firmly, apparently not liking that Dean had called them idiots even though Dean didn’t mean it as negative or anything, “Anyone would be lucky to have a group of people care that much about them without wanting something in return.”

               “What about your family, Castiel?”

               He was silent for awhile and for a moment Dean had thought he had fallen asleep, but then he heard Castiel say hesitantly, “My family is not as affectionate as yours.”

               Dean raised a lazy eyebrow, “You talkin’ about all that constructive criticism crap they try to pull?”

               “Yes,” Castiel answered and he swallowed hard before continuing, “They prefer not to visit hospitals because they don’t want to catch any viruses or diseases floating around in the air.”

               This made Dean jerk his head (aka the only thing he could move more than a few inches at a time) up to look at him, though he could only barely make out the shape of Castiel in the dark, “You mean that you’ve been here for more than a month and they’ve never visited you?”

               “My parents are busy with work,” Castiel answered stiffly, “They don’t have any time. And my brothers…” He trailed off and went quiet for a second before clearing his throat and continuing, “My brothers are busy, too. If they weren’t, then they would be there for me. I know they would.”

               Dean noticed his drastic change in tone and said gently, ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything. I was just curious.”

               “It’s quite alright, Dean. I would just prefer not to speak about my family members.”

               “My bad, I was just being pushy.”

               “Yes, but that’s just part of your personality.”

               His statement took Dean a little off guard, “Pardon?”

               Castiel must have noticed his mistake because it took him a few seconds to reply, “I didn’t mean to offend. I-It was just an observation. I mean, from what I’ve heard about you from other people…”

               “Don’t believe anything they say about me, okay?” Dean almost snapped, anger suddenly boiling in his stomach, “They’re all full of absolute crap.”

               “Dean, I really didn’t mean it like that,” Castiel assured him, “I-I was just saying about how much good things I’ve heard about you. P-People seem to respect you a-a lot around here.”

               Now it was Dean’s turn to be silent for a moment before replying softly, “They don’t respect me, Moron. They fear me. There’s a difference.”

               “I don’t fear you, Dean.” Castiel whispered almost inaudibly, but Dean still heard it.

               “Thanks, I guess,” Dean told him before sighing, “But as you can probably already tell, you’re not like most people.”

               “Neither are you,” Castiel told him firmly, even though this was the second time Dean had insulted him.

               Dean scoffed bitterly as he looked up to the ceiling, “You dead wrong, Angel Boy. I’m just one of the little people that everyone mistakes as someone important.”

               Castiel didn’t respond. So after a whole ten minutes of nothing but silence, Dean sighed as he snuggled into his pillow, **_That’s what I thought_**.

               It was fifteen minutes in and right when Dean was about to let his sleepiness succumb him, he heard a hurt whisper demand, “How could you think that, Dean?”

               "Because it’s true, Cas.” Dean groaned groggily, “Now go to sleep already.” And Dean did just that, though he wasn't sure if Castiel followed his order.

* * *

                The next thing he remembered was Missouri’s voice singing, “Rise and shine, Boys.” Dean cracked an eye open just in time to be completely blinded as Missouri opened the curtains, letting the bright morning light shine right in his face, “Oh come on!” Dean hissed, raising his hospital cover over his head, “Have you no mercy, Lady?”

                “Oh Sweetheart, I left all of that when I had to deal with spoiled brats like yourself.” He heard her say coolly and right on cue, his cover was yanked away from him. Dean just about growled at the nurse (as you could already tell, Dean wasn’t a morning person) when he heard a cheery voice say to him, “Dean, it’s time for breakfast.” His head jerked up to find Castiel sitting up on his bed smiling at him, as if last night never happened. Speaking of last night…

                **_Dammit, I’m such an asshole,_** Dean groaned to himself. **_This is why you don’t have friends, Dean,_** a reasonable voice hissed in the back of his mind, **_you just always have to act like a dick the first two seconds somebody thinks you’re a decent guy._** Even though he knew it was true, Dean told the voice to stuff it and pushed it as far as he could away from his thoughts.

                “What’s for breakfast?” Dean asked, rubbing his face so he could hopefully wake up all the way and not make a bigger ass of himself.

                “Gravy and biscuits.” Missouri answered as she a tray of frozen pieces of bread (biscuits?) with deep brown liquid (gravy…and/or shit?) poured on top of them. Dean took one whiff of that but wished he hadn’t as he had to hold back the bile that rose in his throat, “What the hell died to make this?”

                “Our standards.” Missouri replied grimly as she crinkled his nose in disgust at the platter. She unhooked all of the wires and IVs in his arm until he was completely bare of all the medical equipment. Then she just turned away and walked to the door, possibly leaving Dean to his death by food poisoning without even saying a farewell, “Your parents are coming to pick you up in thirty minutes, Mr. Winchester.” She told him, “They’re bringing your own clothes to change into before you leave here.”

                “Um…okay.” Dean replied, trying his best to breathe from his mouth so the smell didn’t seem as putrid.

                “And Dean?”

                “Yes, Ma’am?”

                Her eyes dropped to the monstrosity that sat in his lap and advised, “I wouldn’t try to bite down on those ‘biscuits’ as hard as you can if you want all those pretty straight teeth to last.”

                Dean had to stiffen an eye roll and smiled sarcastically, “Yea, thanks for that.”

                Missouri shrugged, “Could’ve stayed silent and let your mama be worried with a dental bill.” As soon as she left the room, Dean rolled his eyes and decided to inspect the pile of dung before him to see if there’s any pieces that look somewhat edible.

                “Damn, Cas, how could you stand this shit for—“ He stopped abruptly once he looked over to the boy and saw three fluffy pancakes smothered in frothy syrup on his tray along with three strips of bacon and scrambled eggs.

               Castiel arched an eyebrow at his sudden stop and raised his gaze to see Dean dumbfounded, “What’s wrong, Dean?”

               “Does Missouri have it out for me or does she just like you more?” Dean demanded once he was able to control his drooling.

                Castiel stared at him with his head cocked to the side and eyes reflecting in confusion, “I believe you’ve done nothing to Ms. Missouri for her to hold a grudge against you.”

                “Dude, I’m talking about the whole freaking last supper meal on your plate.” Dean told him, motioning to the culinary dynasty on his tray.

                “Oh, you mean my breakfast food.” Castiel sighed in realization, dropping his gaze down to it, “Daphne made it for me.”

                Dean raised an eyebrow, “Does she do that often?”

                “Most of the days, yes. Why?” He finally noticed what Dean was having for a very hearty meal and his eyes widened, “I deeply apologize, Dean. Please mind my ill manners. Would you like it?”

                “All of it?” Dean asked, completely surprised that anyone would ever give away that beautiful cuisine without doing some kicking and screaming first.

                “Yes, of course,” Castiel answered firmly, “It’s the only polite thing to do. Here, let me hand it to you.” He picked up the plate and walked over to Dean’s bedside. It took all of Dean’s willpower not to just attack the platter but he knew it wasn’t right.

                “Why don’t we just share it?” Dean suggested (a little reluctantly) to him.

                Castiel quickly shook his head as he swapped the plates, “No, that wouldn’t be right. I mean, you are kind of a guest.”

                “Cas, you don’t live here either…right?”

                “No,” He had admitted hesitantly, “I’ve just been here awhile and it’s been more of a home than—“ Cas stopped himself in mid-sentence and closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and smiling (though it seemed forced), “But anyway, it just wouldn’t feel right considering that you’ve lost precious weeks of your life. Besides, your first meal back to real civilization should be memorable.”

                “Cas,” Dean began tiredly as he sat up and crossed his legs so he could give Cas room, “Just get into this bed before I drag you in myself.” After hearing his own words, Dean’s face heated up in embarrassment as he quickly added, “Not like _that,_ of course—“

                “Dean, we’ve already established you ‘don’t wear green on Thursdays.’ It’s okay.” Castiel assured him before is eyes zeroed in on the foot of Dean’s bed, “Now are you sure you want to share—“

                “Yes, Cas. I’m sure.” Dean confirmed, nodding his head as he took the ‘biscuits and gravy’ out of the boy’s hands and laid it on top of the nearby chair his brother had sat in the previous night. Cas sighed and hesitantly sat down, putting the tray of food between them. Dean smiled as he took one of the plastic forks and sawed every food item in half, “Good. Now eat up.” Cas followed suit and started to eat; Dean did also. So it was quiet for the first five minutes.

                “I’m sorry about last night.” Dean said finally, looking up from the tray of food to gauge Castiel reaction.

                Castiel furrowed his brow and shrugged, “Why?”

                “I was a big bag of dicks to you last night. It's the kind of behavior you usually apologize for.” Dean told him tersely as he avoided his gaze, wondering why Castiel was making him say it _again_ when he’d much rather put the embarrassing incident passed them.

                Castiel finally looked up and there was pure confusion reflecting in his eyes, “Dean, you didn’t do anything wrong. I clearly provoked you and you reacted like any normal human being would.”

                “Are you seriously saying this was all _your_ fault?” Dean demanded, not entirely believing what he was hearing.

                Cas shrugged, “But of course. And I deeply apologize for saying those things toward you, Dean. Now, may we please continue our feast?”

                “Cas, it was my fault.” Dean told him strongly, not understanding why Castiel just couldn’t accept his apology and get over it.

                “No, it was not.”

                “Yes, it was.”

                “Was not.”

                “Was to.”

                “No.”

                “Yes!”

               “Dean, stop being stubborn and eat the rest of your egg.”

               “ _Dammit, Castiel!_ ”

               “Fine!” Cas finally said exasperatedly, running a hand through his black hair, causing it to stick up and Dean couldn’t help but notice how ridiculously adorable it looked, “It was all your fault, alright? Now can we _please_ dine in peace?”

               Dean smirked smugly as he stabbed his last bite of scrambled egg with his fork and plucked it into his mouth, “Let’s.”

* * *

                “So are still contagious?” Dean questioned as he watched Castiel eat the remaining pieces of his food.

                “Excuse me?” Castiel asked with a quirked eyebrow as he put a half strip of bacon into his mouth.

                “You know, from your Malara.”

                Cas stared at him blankly for a few seconds before his eyes lit in realization, “Oh, you mean Malaria. No, since I am already mostly over it, I cannot spread it to anyone else. You have nothing to fear.”

                Dean snorted, “Like anyone could ever be afraid of a scrawny guy like you.”

                “I suppose I am a little frightening,” Castiel replied, shrugging as he stuffed the last bit of his own share of the egg into his mouth before continuing, “I mean, why else would the rest of the human population keep avoiding me at every chance they get?”

                Dean’s eyes widened and he didn’t know what else to say (are you supposed to go ‘ _Oh, I’m sorry everyone thinks you’re a total freak. If it means anything, you’re only a tad bit weird and creepy to me’_?), so he just sat there quietly while Castiel finished eating. Cas didn’t seem at all fazed by what he said and just practically stated it like it was a known fact, which Dean found sort of sad.

                “Hey, Cas?” Dean said finally as he watched Castiel climb back into his own bed.

                “Yes?” He asked as he slid into the covers and propped an elbow up to look at Dean.

                Dean licked his lips nervously, **_It’s now or never…_**

                “My parents are throwing this lame party at my house tonight to celebrate me basically coming back from the dead…” He trailed off, hoping Cas would get the hint. **_Dammit, Winchester, stop acting like a flustered thirteen year old girl and be a man._**

                Cas, who was apparently oblivious to what he was getting at, nodded, “That seems pleasant. Are you excited?”

                “Um, not really.” Dean answered timidly, looking down to the tilted floor. Dean swallowed hard and finally gained enough confidence so he said all in one breath, “I was just wondering if you wanted to come, maybe…?”

                Cas’ eyes widened, like he actually didn’t see his offer coming (and he probably didn’t considering it was someone as odd as Castiel), “Me?”

                “Yea,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

                Castiel’s eyes narrowed suddenly and his body became rigid, “If this is a prank, I can assure you that it is not at all humorous.”

                “Why would you ever think I would do that?” Dean demanded, offended that Cas could think he was cruel enough to pull such a trick.

                Castiel blushed in shame as he ducked his head, “My apologies, I-I guess I’m just so used to all of the malicious ‘jokes’ that my brother pulls on me.”

                Dean was appalled that someone’s own flesh and blood would actually be that mean (sure, he played a lot of pranks on Sammy all the time but they weren’t as cruel as they were annoying), “Man, that’s just heartless.”

                Cas swallowed hard before nodding numbly, “That’s what I say, but then he just calls me a big baby and storms out of the house. H-He usually doesn’t come back for a few days after that.”

                “That’s just fucked up, Cas.” Dean decided, not liking this guy one bit, “He’s the freaking baby if he leaves the house just because of that.”

                “I don’t think it’s personal,” Castiel told him softly, eyes dropping to the floor, “He usually takes any excuse to get out of our dysfunctional household. And he usually comes back with a gift for me to say he’s sorry, so it’s okay. Honestly, he’s the only sibling that I’m sure I lov—“ Castiel stopped abruptly and started to shake his head violently, “N-No, forgive me. I-I didn’t mean that. I love a-all my siblings equally.” He took a shaky breath and looked back up to Dean with sudden wet eyes, “I-I don’t want to talk about this anymore, D-Dean.”

                “It’s okay, Cas. We don’t have to talk about it.” Dean told him softly, green eyes piercing his.

                Cas nodded as he took a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face, “Now what were you saying, Dean?”

                It took Dean a moment to even remember what they were talking before this episode happened. But thankfully, his mind lit up in recollection just in time and prompted him to quickly change the subject, “I was wondering if you wanted to go to my party tonight. Hell, you’d probably be the only one other than my family that I actually want there.”

                For a moment, it looked like he was going to say yes and Dean almost shrieked in joy (which made him seriously start to believe while he was out, the doctor might have accidentally gave him a vagina. After all, it was the only _logical_ explanation of all of these girly emotions bubbling around), then it looked as though Castiel had remembered something and his gaze lifted to the ceiling as he took in a shaky breath, “I really shouldn’t.”

                “Why not?” Dean couldn’t help but demand.

                “Because I don’t belong there,” Cas stated flatly, closing his eyes and sighed, “And if Naomi found out I snuck out of the hospital’s care, she would be an absolute nightmare.”

                “Who the hell is Naomi?”

                “Nobody.” He replied a little too quickly as his eyes snapped open, obvious fear in his voice.

                “Cas—“

                “You said we didn’t have to talk about it.” Cas reminded him, a small smile appearing on his face as he looked Dean in the eye. Dean wanted to say screw what he said and demand to tell him but Dean refrained himself. He did promise not to talk about it and he couldn’t take that back now.

                “You’re right. I forgot. No talking about families, though it’s perfectly fine for you to ask everything about _mine_.” Dean teased instead as he mustered up a lazy smile.

                Cas smiled teasingly at him, “That is correct.”

                There was a brief moment of silence before Dean hopelessly tried again, “Are you sure—“ He was cut off by the door opening. Castiel and Dean jerked their heads to the direction of the door and saw it was only Dean’s family. His mother had his favorite Metallica shirt and a pair of old jeans in her hands as she stood in between Dean’s dad and brother. She smiled, “Are you ready to go, Sweetheart?” **_Dammit, Mom. Can’t a perfectly straight man ask out another perfectly straight man without any interruptions?_**

                Dean hesitated for a moment before reluctantly answering, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He hopped out of his bed and collected his normal clothes before walking off into the bathroom for some privacy. He quickly changed out of the stupid revealing hospital and changed into something that wouldn’t show all his private parts in a random gust of wind, all while thinking of ways to convince Cas to break out of his shell and for once actually have some fun…with him. Yes, two obviously heterosexual men (and he’s pretty sure Castiel was straight too since he flirted right on back to that Daphne chick and she already cooked him breakfast daily so they’re practically married now—not that Dean _cared_ what goes on between them because _Dean was not gay!!_ ) hanging out together at a party. And hey, maybe Dean could show Cas his bedroom and _accidentally_ …

                **_No, don’t think of him that way. You are going to bring that Bela Talbot bitch to your room and make out with her, and you are going to like it…after having some male bonding with Castiel first, like any non-gay, heterosexual male would with his other perfectly straight (and sort of attractive) male friend in a totally non-homosexual way._** **_Because you don’t like Castiel that way._** _But— **Shut up, no you don’t.**_

                When he was finally done changing and settling the inner battle within himself, Dean stepped out of the bathroom and finally felt like himself again. He smiled at his overjoyed parents and little brother before announcing, “I’ll meet you guys outside. There’s something I need to do before we leave.” His mother seemed hesitant to leave her son’s side more than she has to but his father put an arm around her and led her out, “Come on, Mary. He ain’t gonna make a jailbreak the second you turn your back.”

                Sam didn’t move from his place and looked at him so curiously that Dean had to roll his eyes, “Scram, Brat. I gotta talk to Cas for a minute,” When Sam still didn’t move, Dean added, “ _Alone._ ” Sam shot him a dirty look before backing away slowly and closing the door after him, leaving Dean and Castiel finally by themselves.

                Dean groaned, “I hope they stop smothering me soon. I mean, I can’t keep up my bad boy image with my mommy hanging on my coat tail.” When Cas didn’t answer, Dean turned around and saw Cas was just watching him intently with his head tilted to the side. If Dean had a dollar for every time that kid did that in just _two days_ …well, let’s just say his family wouldn’t be struggling with the bills anymore.

                Dean sighed, “Dude, do you _ever blink_?”

                “Every human has to blink, Dean.” Cas deadpanned, though there was hint of teasing in his tone as a ghost of a smile started to surface on his face.

                Dean rolled his eyes but chose not to comment as he crossed the room and sat on Castiel’s bed. He tried to ignore the way Cas’ body tensed up instantly as soon as he sat down but it still hurt. He didn’t let his wounded feelings show as he smiled, “So...” Wow, he didn’t think he’d get this far without any annoying interruptions from his family. **_Damn, I am so screwed._**

                Castiel seemed to notice his floundering for words so he reminded him gently, “You told Samuel that you needed to speak with me.”

                Dean nodded, “Right, but first of all: Samuel? Really?”

                “That is his name, is it not?”

                Dean sighed and scratched the back of his head, “Well, I guess so but the only people who call him that are, like, teachers.” Cas looked like he was going to retort but Dean knew he didn’t have much time before his father would send Sam to go get him, so he just decided to cut to the chase, “So, are you sure you can’t some tonight? Like, not even for a minute?”

                Cas sighed tiredly and sadly shook his head, “I’m sorry, Dean, but I cannot.”

                “Well, can you at least _try_?” Dammit, now he’s sounding like some clingy girlfriend (and trust him when he says he knows how they sound like; he’s had a ton of them in the past).

                Castiel paused for a moment, as if trying to decide something, and Dean dared to hope for the best as Cas sighed out, “As you wish. But I don’t understand why you want me there at all. I mean, you’ll probably have a dozen of more interesting people there. I cannot guarantee I will be the life of the party.”

                Dean grinned widely as he slapped him on the back, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Cas.” And before Castiel could protest, Dean swiped one of the sharpies off of one of the nearby nightstands and grabbed Castiel’s hand. Lightning shot through him as soon as Dean’s fingertips touched the boy’s pale skin and it took Dean a moment to concentrate back on his task. With shaky fingers, Dean messily scribbled his address onto the boy’s palm and reluctantly released him. When he looked up, Dean saw Castiel had wide eyes as he looked back and forth between Dean and his now marker stained hand. Seeing that it wasn’t a look of (absolute) horror, Dean grinned cheekily at him and got up from the bed. He moved to the door but stopped when he finally heard Castiel’s small voice, “Um…Dean? About what you said last night…”

                “Water under the bridge, Cas,” Dean interrupted in a flat tone, knowing where he was going with this, “I said some things I shouldn’t have but it doesn’t make them any less true.” He thought Castiel was going to press him more but thankfully he didn’t. So Dean opened the door and glanced at Castiel one last time before finally leaving the room, slamming the door shut with one loud thud.

                When his father pointed out that Dean had a bounce in his step as he got out of the car to go set up for the party, Dean pretended not to know what on earth he was talking about.

* * *

                All night. All fucking night Dean suffered though endless conversations with pompous morons, always staying near the door in case Cas tried to sneak in without Dean noticing. But Castiel never came.

                Dean wasted the whole night waiting for some douchebag that didn’t even pop in to say hi. It’s beyond stupid, but Dean kinda felt like a girl getting stood up: angry, hurt, confused…ready to kill (no, he’s totally kidding about that part). “Did you like the party, Sweetie?” His mother asked as she, Dean, Sam, and John tried to pick up the trash left by the carelessly messy teenagers.

                Dean smiled, “I loved it, Mom. Thanks.”

                It took them a whole two hours to pick and clean everything up (thankfully, nobody puked on the carpet like last time) and when they were finally done, Dean said goodnight to Sam and his parents and trotted upstairs to go to his room.

               As soon as he opened the door though, he automatically noticed his window was open, letting the cool night breeze whip through the room and send shivers down his spine. “Dammit, Sam.” Dean grumbled to himself, thinking it was his kid brother since Sam liked to go through all of Dean’s stuff when he wasn’t there. He must have thought Dean wouldn't, but it was kinda hard to miss when everything in your bedroom had been moved. But upon further inspection, Dean noticed that nothing else seemed to be touched except the window, which he thought was a little weird but didn’t think much of it since it wasn’t much of a big deal. So when he closed the window and made his way into bed, he almost didn’t notice the small wooden chess piece sitting on his nightstand. Dean furrowed his brow as he swiped it up and inspected it thoroughly. **_No, it couldn’t be…I mean, I watched the door like a hawk. Cas couldn’t have possibly—_**

                Then he remembered the window being open and it filled him with even more curiosity. Dean moved to the window and opened it again before sticking his head out into the cold night and looking down. His room was on the second floor, more than fifteen feet high from the ground. So how could a small delicate guy like Castiel scale their house and climb in and out of it without anybody noticing him?

                Dean smiled to himself and glanced back at the nightstand, only to notice a perfectly folded white piece of paper right where he had found the chess piece. Dean swiped it up instantly and discovered the words written in neat beautiful handwriting:

                _‘Everyone is important, Dean Winchester. Even the little people.’_

                Dean’s hands started to shake as he didn’t know whether to feel creeped out or flattered. But between you and him, it was definitely the latter.


	3. Is This Seat Taken?

“Dean, wake up! It’s time to go to school!” Sam’s obnoxiously loud voice rang throughout the house and blasted through Dean’s eardrums.

Dean groaned and buried his head deeper into his pillow, “No, I’m sick…I think I need complete and total bed rest for the next ten months until the next summer vacation.” He tried to drift back into pure sleeping bliss but the thud of footsteps getting increasingly louder kept him somewhat conscious. He heard his bedroom door slam open and he didn’t even have to crack one eye open to know who it was. “Dean, seriously, I don’t want to be late.”

He sighed as he reluctantly opened his eyes and saw his brother standing beside his bed in his usual dorky attire, “Sammy, relax. It’s just high school, not one of your freaking dance recitals. They really don’t care if you’re late.” He closed his eyes again and relaxed before he added, “Who’s your first period anyway?”

“Mr. Azazel.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, abruptly sitting up at the name, “Oh shit.”

Sam’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, “What’s wrong?”

“Dude, he is going to crucify you if you’re late on the first day. Learned that the hard way, My Friend.”

Sam’s mouth fell open, “W-What?”

Dean couldn’t hold back his amused chuckle as he got out of bed and threw on a plain black tee-shirt that smelled (mostly) clean, “I’m just messing with you, Sammy. Lighten up.” He paused for just enough time for the tension to leave Sam’s shoulders before he added, “He’ll only lock you out of the room if you’re not in there on the dot.”

The way Sam’s slightly relaxed expression turned into complete and total terror as he bolted out of Dean’s room to get everything ready was almost enough to make him excited to go back to school just to watch his brother scramble around in the hallways and actually believe every lie Dean tells him (but he wasn’t kidding about Mr. Azazel locking you out if you’re not in class on time. That guy was a total dick).

But of course, that small fleeting positive emotion was soon demolish once he remembered he had to pretend like he actually gave damn about anything (school related, that is). Even though Sammy had big dreams about leaving this town in the dust for something much greater, Dean wasn’t that stupid. Sure, he had no doubt that Sam could do it (the kid was as smart as Dean was good-looking), but Dean knew he was just kidding himself if he ever believed that he could do anything more in life than fix cars at his Uncle Bobby Garage Shop and eat his mom’s apple pie until he dies (sounded like a pretty good lifestyle to him at least).

Dean pulled on a pair of blue jeans and made his way down the stairs. He wished his mom was home so they would’ve had an actual breakfast but she pulled an extra shift at the Harvelle Roadhouse to earn a few extra bucks so Dean and Sam were on their own for today. Dean swooped up an already opened bag of Funyuns and started to eat while his younger brother darted around the house to try to get everything perfect for his first day of high school.

“Sammy, stop powdering your nose and come on!” Dean called out after him as Sam had moved into the bathroom for the fifth time.

“Bite me, Dean!” He heard Sam snap back but he did come out only a minute later.

Dean moved to the wall and grabbed his dad’s old hunting jacket from the clothes rack, putting it on even though it was already a humid morning in the beginning of the month of August. Dean passed by Sam on his way to the door and threw him the bag of chips, “Don’t forget to eat your vegetables, Sammy.” Sam rolled his eyes and took only a couple chips before following Dean to the door.

Ever since Dean got his license two years ago, his dad gave him his old ’67 Chevy Impala and just rides carpool with Bobby to work, and Dean’s been driving himself and Sam to school since then. But instead of dropping Sammy off at middle school this year, he gets to hang out with the big dogs and endure the worst four years of his life.

Sam closed the door behind him and went to climb into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean got into the driver’s seat and started the car before turning the radio onto one of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs. Sam groaned in protest, “Can we _please_ listen to music from _this_ century?”

“House rules, Sammy,” Dean answered cheekily as he pulled out of the driveway, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole.”

“You know,” Sam drawled out, glancing over to him, “’Sammy’ is a chubby twelve year old. It’s just Sam now, okay?”

Dean snorted, “Well, look-y here, big shot high school student thinks he’s Big Kahuna now.”

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, “Just turn the greatest hits of mullet rock down and keep focused on the road.”

Dean shrugged as he cranked his stereo all the way up, “Sorry, can’t hear you. The music’s too loud.” Sam groaned again in embarrassment as his older brother belted out the lyrics to _“Ramble On”_ with all his heart and soul.

The drive to school was filled with more mockery, insults, and death threats but that was always a normal ride for the Winchester family.

* * *

Look, Dean always loved to tease Sam _a lot,_ but when he saw his kid brother twisting and turning in his seat and chewing his bottom lip completely off as the Impala rolled to a stop in the school’s parking lot, his voice softened as he bumped Sam’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, don’t worry about it. We have at least ten minutes left to get to Mr. Big Bad Wolf’s class.”

“It’s not just getting there on time that’s bothering me, Dean.” Sam told him reluctantly, keeping his eyes firmly locked onto the dashboard to avoid Dean’s gaze.

He sighed, “Then what’s bothering you, Sammy?”

Sam hesitated but finally switched his gaze to Dean and asked quietly, ”Is high school really that bad, Dean?”

Dean swallowed hard and began reluctantly, “No—“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I’m not a little kid anymore.” Sam cut him off, his green eyes flaring in annoyance and determination, “Mom and Dad can lie to me all they want, but not you.”

He sighed miserably, “So you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Dean said as he got out of the Impala and slammed the car door shut, Sam following suit, “High school sucks ass, Sam. It’s full of fakes, liars, cheaters, and backstabbers that’ll sell you out in a heartbeat just for the title of homecoming queen. The best thing you can do is keep your head down and don’t trust anybody until I give them the green light.”

Sam sighed as he and Dean walked side by side into the school building, “But what if—“

“Sammy, you follow my rules and you’ll make it out alive, okay?” Dean interrupted abruptly as he started to fast walk, not wanting Sam to be late and endure the wrath from Mr. Stick Up His Ass that already had a particular hate for Winchesters (apparently, he used to date their mom, Mary, in high school until their dad, aka the high school drop out without a penny to his name, blew into town and “stole her away from him”).

Sam scoffed as he and his brother dodged all of the bustling students racing to get to class on time, “Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?”

Dean let out an exhausted sigh, starting to get sick of Sam’s constant badgering, “Because I’m the oldest…which means that I’m always right.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, “No, it doesn’t.”

Dean snorted as he took hold of his younger brother’s wrist and started to lead him to Mr. Azazel’s room, “Yeah, it totally does.”

* * *

When they finally made it to their destination, Dean noticed Sam’s overly neat and nerdy look and tsked as he had to ruffle his brother’s mop of brown hair and untuck his shirt out of his pants, “Dude, did _Mom_ lay this out for you?” When he saw Sam turned as red as a tomato, Dean groaned, “Seriously, do you _want_ to be labeled as the Steve Urkel look-alike for the rest of the year?”

Sam shot him a dirty look and slapped Dean’s hands away, “Shut up.”

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, Poindexter. Just meet at the Impala right after the last bell so we can get the hell out of here as fast as we can, alright?”

Sam nodded and looked to the wall clock, his face instantly turning guilty as he glanced back at his brother, “Dean, I think I’m going to make you late.”

“Nah, my homeroom is just down the hall.” Dean lied effortlessly, knowing his first period classroom was actually on the whole other side of the school.

Sam didn’t look completely convinced but he didn’t press him any further as he said goodbye to Dean and turned toward the door. He hesitated on touching the doorknob and for a moment Dean had thought Sam had just forgotten something (which sounded impossible because of the huge ass backpack he was hauling around because he insisted that “he was going to need all of it.” Did Dean ever mention he was a typical freshmen?), but all thoughts of that were banished when Sam abruptly turned around and threw his arms around his brother, trapping him in a tight embrace.

Dean rolled his eyes but wrapped his arms around his little twerp of a brother that was trying to ruin his fearful and bad boy reputation, “Sammy, what have I always told you about chick flick moments?”

Sam laughed as he removed himself from Dean, though there was still a twinkle of nervousness in his eyes, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Dean sighed and shrugged, “Beats being a whiny little bitch.” Sam tried to glare at him but his small smile gave him away as he reluctantly waved goodbye and disappeared into the classroom. Dean was determined not to break out into a goofy grin that wanted so desperately wanted to surface as he turned to the direction of his own classroom and took one step forward…then the bell rang.

“Of course,” Dean said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “Because why would anything ever go right for me?” With a heavy sigh, Dean walked slowly down the now barren hallway and foolishly hoped his new teacher wasn’t as much as a dickwad as everyone else claimed he was.

* * *

Turns out, his teacher was not; he was much, _much_ worse.

Sure, Dean had expected for him to be maybe a little pissed off when he popped into the classroom and plopped down in an empty desk without even uttering a single excuse, but he didn’t expect the asshole to _throw him out of class seconds after he sat down!_

 ** _Stupid freaking Mr. Henriksen,_** Dean mentally cursed harshly through his haze of absolute fury and humiliation as he stomped down the hallway on his way to the principal’s office, **_just because he used to be some big bad FBI agent doesn’t mean he can be an unfair tyrant—_**

“On the first day again, Mr. Winchester?” The vice principal sneered as he passed Dean on his way out of the principal’s office.

“Bite me, Zachariah.” Dean hissed back before he even knew the words had slipped from his mouth. He could usually hold back his snippy remarks and malicious feelings for the little devil (though everyone in this naïve town think he’s some sort of freaking angel), but he was too pissed off to enable his self-control.

Zachariah noticed his off behavior and raised one of his big white eyebrows (one of the few places he actually has any hair) at him, “Bad tempered already, Dean? Funny, I always thought your period schedule started in the middle of the semester.” Dean knew the old bastard was having fun berating him and it started to piss him off even further. He took a step forward and blocked the vice principal’s path, “You know what, Zachariah? Fu—“

“Not finishing that sentence would be wise, Mr. Winchester.” An unknown older female voice advised from inside the office, causing Dean to get slightly confused. **_Is Ms. Eve having a board meeting or something—_**

The question was banished from Dean’s mind as a middle aged woman with dark auburn hair tied into a tight bun stepped out into the hall wearing a flashy metal nametag saying in big proud letters: NAOMI TAPPING, PRINCIPAL. Dean furrowed his brow and stepped away from Zachariah to further inspect the woman, “Um…who the hell are you?”

“Oh congratulations, Mr. Winchester,” The woman, _Naomi Tapping_ , said with a soft smile, though her eyes were as cold as the icy water Dean’s mom poured on him when he wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning, “You will be the first student here to let me demonstrate our new policy.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, “And what policy would that be, Sweetheart?”

“No cursing allowed,” She answered before leaning into him and whispering darkly, “And it’s Ms. Tapping to you, _Dean_.” He felt a strange shot of fear run through him (which is sort of odd since the only girls who could do that was his own mother and the Harvelle women) and he felt himself nodding numbly.

Ms. Tapping’s smile reappeared (though this time it was more unforgiving and slightly fearful than from actual cheerfulness) as she opened the principal’s door fully and looked back at him, her blue eyes twinkling with delight, “Why don’t you come on in and let’s talk about the little stunt that you pulled in American History today with Mr. Henriksen.”

Before Dean could even think for himself, his legs started moving robotically and forced him to sit down on one of the chairs facing her desk. He inspected the principal’s desk and found that the name plaque that sat at the edge of the desk did not say ‘Ms. Eve’ like it was supposed to but instead read as ‘Ms. Tapping’ and Dean suddenly had the urge to vomit.

Ms. Eve had always tolerated Dean, even when he would sometimes be sent to her office a few times a day. Whenever he got into a fight, Ms. Eve would still follow her usual protocol and find out exactly what had happened before handing out certain punishments. She was also very protective of her students as though they were her own children and she would take on the King of Hell himself for them. Everybody in school adored Ms. Eve, even the troublemakers that she put into detention until five every day. So why the hell would she ever get fired?

“Where’s Ms. Eve?” Dean asked bluntly, clinging to the hope that she was just at home sick and this Tapping chick was just a temporary substitute.

Ms. Tapping’s smile that she gave Dean seemed way too happy as she brightly stated, “The board had ruled that Ms. Eve was playing extreme favoritism and being inappropriate to certain students, so she was let go.” Dean had thought that it couldn’t possibly get worse but of course this woman loved to prove him wrong, “Then I had graciously stepped down from my position as head chairmen and volunteered to take her place to finally start to whip this place into shape.”

His throat suddenly felt like sawdust as he croaked out hesitantly, “That’s just…awesome.”

Ms. Tapping noticed his slightly upset expression and nodded condescendingly, “Yes, I would assume that you would feel that way considering you were among one of her favorite… _students_ and did several certain _favors_ for her—“

“I wasn’t her sex slave if that’s what you’re fucking applying!” Dean hissed harshly in disgust, shivering at the thought of himself deflowering such a motherly figure.

“Mr. Winchester, what did I just tell you about cursing?” Ms. Tapping asked calmly, though her eyes were practically radiating off hatred as they stared hard at the disobedient eighteen year old boy in front of her, “And it isn’t polite to interrupted someone when they are speaking—especially your elder and superior.”

Dean sighed and bowed his head in shame, hoping to pull off the guilt trip (though he wasn’t sure this bitch even knew what sympathy was) and thought he was home free when she said, “Now, because this is just the first day, you’re expecting me to let this one time slide, correct?”

“I’d like to hope so, Ma’am.” Dean said with as much remorse as he could muster toward a cold hearted monster like that.

Ms. Tapping let out a breathily chuckle as she sadly shook her head, “Then this is going to be a fresh breath of reality for you, Dean.” She leaned in and narrowed her eyes at him, “I’ve read your file and it is quite _inspiring_ for me to finally fix this run-down dumpster into a well-respected high class education center. So, because this is your first offense with me, I am going to go easy on you and just settle for only two weeks of morning and afternoon detention for three hours each.”

Dean’s mouth fell open and he honestly didn’t believe her at first, _“What?”_

“You heard me, Mr. Winchester.”

“B-But unlike you, I actually have a life outside this hellhole!” Apparently, Dean forgot to turn on his mental censor since almost everything he kept thinking flowed through his lips without direct permission and access. He was figuratively _and_ literally totally _fucked._

Ms. Tapping’s fake smile finally dropped as did her false delighted tone, “Three weeks. Shall I continue to add more to your sentencing or do you have something else to say to me?” Gee, she made it sound like this was a court hearing and she’s the unforgiving judge and he’s the no good criminal wanted for an illegally large amount of attitude.

Dean had to lock his jaw so more profanities wouldn’t escape his mind and slither out of his lips as he said through clenched teeth, “No, Ma’am.”

Ms. Tapping smiled victoriously and nodded, “Good.” As if on cue, the bell rang, signaling that first period was already halfway over. She sighed and straightened the papers on the desk, “You are excused, Mr. Winchester. When you finally arrive back at your classroom, I suspect for you to get up in front of everyone and apologize to Mr. Henriksen as well as the students for your rude interruption and tardiness. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am.” Dean almost growled out the words, wishing he was some kind of secret X-Men member and make her head explode by just one glance. But before she could give him more detention for just looking at her menacingly (and he wouldn’t doubt that she wouldn’t considering all the stunts she’s pulled today), Dean stood up and got the hell out of there.

Though as soon as he was a respectable distance away from her office, Dean hauled off and punched the wall of lockers with all of his might. He started to regret it instantly when he felt his innocent fingers snap into unnatural positions (sometimes, Dean suspected he’s too strong for his own good). Dean swallowed down his upcoming scream of pain and just popped his fingers back into place before reluctantly going back to his homeroom.

Something deep in Dean’s gut warned him that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d have to deal with Ms. Tapping, but he tried desperately to ignore the feeling and just pretended that his senior year was going to be just fine.

* * *

The only things he learned in first period was that the class was full of almost everyone he hates and Mr. Henriksen may hold a grudge against him for the remaining of this year. Second period with Ms. Tran was a bit better because at least Jo was in there with him, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was probably going to fail Geometry this year (he still can’t understand what wise guy dedicated a whole class to learn fucking shapes). But other than Dean encountering more equally fucked up (meaning extremely difficult) classes, nothing else really interesting happened until lunch rolled around.

Dean entered the lunchroom with both his arms draped around Jo Harvelle and Charlie Bradbury (which was kind of ironic since Jo was like a little sister to him and he wasn’t Charlie’s… _type_ ). His day was a little bit more tolerable since the first period incident but he wouldn’t go as far as saying his first day back at school was going well either.

He had thought lunchtime would a time for him to gather peace of mind but that was almost threatened when Alastair Damon, one of Dean’s popular “friends,” whistled from one of the tables, “Hey, Winchester, you’re spot’s over here, Man! Drop the Hos and hang out with the Bros for a change!”

Dean gritted his teeth in annoyance but just sent Alastair a lazy smile and sadly shook his head, “Sorry, I can’t today. I promised my nerdy little brother I’d eat with him today.” **_I may have offered to since I didn’t want to get roped into hanging out with your dumb ass but that’s irrelevant,_** Dean added cheekily in his mind. Alastair rolled his eyes but waved him off anyway to go round up the other idiots from his popular posse.

Okay, so there was something you need to know about the forever elusive Dean Winchester; in school, he had his _real_ friends: Jo, Ash, Sam, Charlie, Lisa Braeden, and Benny Lafitte. Then he had his “friends”: Bela Talbot, Alastair Damon, Lilith Boecher, and Ruby Cortese. The only two of Dean’s real friends that were actually popular are Benny and Lisa; the rest were social rejects that Dean hung out with in school from time to time. But hey, it wasn’t Dean’s fault he’s the star player on Lawrence’s basketball team and king of the school while his childhood friends were considered as outsiders.

Though there was a hidden part of Dean’s brain that secretly envied his friends that got the option to be themselves without anybody giving them crap for how they _should_ act. Hell, if Dean did that, Lawrence’s whole population of youth would rain down on him like a freaking hailstorm. All of them fly over him like vultures, watching his every move just waiting for the perfect time where he finally slips up. Then they run and tell everyone they know for just two minutes of fame while Dean has to deal with it for the rest of his high school life.

 ** _And some people actually believe high school is the greatest time of your life,_** Dean scoffed silently as the three made their way to their usual table that was pushed to the very right corner, allowing them to look over the whole lunchroom in obvious hatred and distaste. Dean sat in his usual spot and Jo took one of the seats beside, Charlie choosing to sit by Jo since she’s her “bestest friend in the whole world” or something girly like that.

Speaking of Charlie, Dean had to say that chick was quite a rare creature; she was only a junior like Jo but had better hacking skills than a sixty year old computer genius. She was also the biggest geek in every sense of the word. She loved everything science fiction, owned every playing card ever imaginable, could speak every alien language in pop culture, and ever LARPed on the weekends (and Dean has to admit, the very few times he was dragged into the beautiful fantasy world of Moondoor, he’s had a lot more fun that he’d ever let on). He had met Charlie in Art two years ago when they were paired up for a project together and fell head over heels for her the second she suggested that they do a Braveheart collage. They’d been best friends ever since (well, not as close as she was with Jo but that’s just because those two had been friends since grade school).

“Jo, where’s Ash?” Dean asked, thinking that the technology genius was always there before them.

Jo sighed, “I think he’s still in the new computer lab messing with all of the teachers’ personal computers.”

Dean chuckled, “Well, I hope he added my personal request of pranking Mr. Henriksen by filling gay porn in all of his files”

Charlie rolled her eyes, “Dean, is that the best you can come up with? Come on, use a little imagination.”

Dean scoffed and was going to reply when he saw Jo’s famous brown bag of fresh (and by fresh, he means non-processed) goodies Ellen always gave her and Ash to eat instead of the school’s “food.”

“What did Misses H cook us this time?” Charlie asked with mild curiosity and extreme hunger.

Jo shrugged, “I don’t know. I told her to surprise me this time.” As soon as Dean saw what was in the bag when Jo dumped the items onto their table, he had to fight the urge to vomit.

“What kind of monster serves her daughter Brussels sprouts and organic toast?!” Dean asked in horror as if just being near the damn food products is already giving him a fatal disease.

Jo grimaced as she stared down the stupidly healthy meal, “My mother. Apparently, she’s still mad about me dumping a whole pitcher of beer on Garth when he showed up at the Roadhouse a few days ago.”

Charlie grinned and shrugged, “Hey, I thought it was funny.”

Jo sighed and pushed them to the other side of the table, “It must be Sam’s lucky day then.” As if he heard them say his name, Dean’s little brother finally entered the lunchroom…but he wasn’t alone; there was a tall brunette that had on all of the latest fashion trends on at Sam’s side. **_Wait a minute, is that—_**

“Is your little brother with _Ruby_?” Charlie voiced his thoughts in astonishment with a trace of disgust. Dean couldn’t respond and just stared dumbfounded as he watched Sam say goodbye to the manipulative bitch and walked towards them. The clueless freshmen plopped down into the chair on the other side of Dean and smiled, “Hey, Guys.”

“’ _Hey, Guys_?’” Dean hissed, finally recovering from his shock as he stared down his brother, “You walk in with the biggest slut in this school and all you have to say is ‘ _Hey, Guys_ ’?”

Sam furrowed his brow as his innocent green eyes reflected pure confusion, “What?” It then finally dawned on him who Dean was obviously talking about, “Wait, you mean Ruby?”

Dean rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically, “No, your imaginary girlfriend that’s been whoring around with Caspar the Friendly Ghost. Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?”

“But Ruby’s nice,” Sam said strongly, starting to become defensive, “She’s in my homeroom.”

Dean sighed exhaustedly at his brother’s naiveness, “Just trust me, Sammy, stay away from that bitch.”

“But isn’t she one of your friends?” Sam countered.

Dean hesitated before admitting slowly, “Well, I hang out with her from time to time but that’s how I know that she’s a lying bitch that likes to take advantage of good smart guys like yourself. Just don’t hang around her—or any of my other popular sociopaths, for that matter—ever again, okay? You’re just gonna get hurt.”

Sam looked ready to argue but knew by the look in Dean’s eyes that fighting about it wouldn’t change anything. So he just nodded reluctantly and put his focus on Jo’s terrible food options, “What are these?”

“They’re all yours, Kid.” Charlie told him cheerfully and practically shoved them in his hands, “Eat it up before Dean-o starts foaming from the mouth for overexposure to his number one nemesis… _vegetables_!”

“Shut up, _Charlene_.” Dean replied, though his slight mocking tone and amused glint in his eyes proved he wasn’t serious.

Charlie smirked and stood up out of her chair, “Fine, _Deanna_ , I guess I won’t pick you up one of my Twinkies that I’ve hidden in my secret stash.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up as if saying ‘ _Deanna? Really?’_ but then her words suddenly took meaning to him. He was tempted to accept defeat because of the angry roar coming from his stomach but decided to stand his ground as he stood up from his chair also, “Jokes on you then, Charles. I happen to actually like the school’s toxic waste that’s supposed to be a nutritious meal.”

Charlie rolled her eyes as she made her way out of the lunchroom to go to her “secret stash” (when in reality, it was just her Legend of Zelda backpack) while Dean went into the lunch line. Since they had arrived late at the lunchroom because they had to wait for Jo as she fruitlessly attempted to get out of a painful conversation with her future husband and current stalker named Garth, the line was almost vacant so it took no time for Dean to grab a small bag of Doritos and a carton of about to be spoiled milk (there was also meatloaf available as the main course but Dean was almost certain that it was a made out of the sort of meat that isn’t legal to cook and consume in the U.S).

But as he was walking back to his table with his eyes glued onto the milk’s expiration date to check to see if it was even a liquid still, he smacked into a small figure and almost made them crashing to the ground if Dean’s reflexes weren’t as fast as they were as he managed to reach out and grab them to keep them from falling. He had first expected it to be a girl because of their petite frame and how they couldn’t even weigh 100 pounds soaking wet, but was terribly mistaken when he found himself looking into a certain familiar pair of blue eyes. ** _No, it couldn’t be…_**

Just then, Dean was brought back into a vivid flashback:

_It was the morning after he had discovered the chess piece and the touching note that stirred up unwanted feelings he so desperately tried to ignore. Dean had woken up early and threw on some clothes before slowly creeping down the stairs and scribbling a note to Sammy saying that he’d be out for awhile._

_Then, with chess piece in hand, Dean had made his way to the Impala and drove straight to Lawrence’s run-down hospital. When he had gotten there, he had went straight into the building and directly into Cas’ room, wondering what exactly he was going to say once he got there. **Should I thank him for the touching gift or threaten to call the police for breaking in and entering? No, maybe I should just ask him to accompany me for a cup of coffee and simply talk to the guy for awhile…damn, even in my head, that sounded gay.**_

_With trembling finger tips, Dean swallowed down his overgrowing anticipation and slight nervousness as he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open…only to find two completely barren hospital beds. Dean furrowed his brow and explored deeper into the room, looking intently for any signs of Castiel’s existence—chessboard, textbooks (yea, the kid even had freaking textbooks he liked to read over the summer “to quench his minds thirst for something interesting to mull over in his brain about while school was over” or some bullshit like that), even his weird leather back notebook Dean’s caught him writing in a few times...but everything Dean had remembered Castiel had sitting beside his bed were now completely gone. Even his freaking hospital bed looked as untouched and uninhibited as ever._

_“Cas?” Dean called out hopelessly, knowing he was the only person in the room but deciding to give it a shot anyway. Not even waiting for an answer he knew wasn’t coming, Dean darted out of the room in panic and started looking furiously through the whole hospital (a little too the extreme but he’s pretty sure he wasn’t in a particularly sane state of mind right then) until he finally spotted Daphne and Missouri talking at the front desk. “Hey!” Dean called out as he bolted towards them with all his might. They both jerked their heads up at his extremely loud (and probably insane sounding) voice and frowned once they saw who it was._

_“Mr. Winchester, do you want me to throw your sorry ass out right here, right now?” Missouri calmly demanded the sweaty boy that was gasping for air when he had finally reached them._

_“N…No, Ma’am.” He tried to say, breathing hard from his panicking haze that sent him running throughout the entire hospital._

_“Then I’d suggest that you stop running around here like you just broke out of the psychiatric wing and show yourself out before you catch something in here.”_

_Dean nodded and panted out, “Sorry…I was just…wondering…where Cas…was. He’s not in…his room. I just want to tell…him something.” Both of the ladies’ faces fell and they averted their gazes, suddenly falling silent._

_“He’s um…not in our care anymore, unfortunately.” Daphne told him hesitantly in a strange tone, causing Dean’s stomach to churn._

_He instantly thought the worst and his eyes widened, “What the hell happened? I-Is he okay?”_

_Missouri sighed, “No, it’s nothin’ like that, Sugar. His daddy just came home unexpectedly and pulled him out way earlier than we would have recommended.”_

_Dean couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief and smiled, “Damn, you guys almost gave me a heart attack. Besides, I thought he was almost over his Malaria.”_

_Missouri’s eyebrows shot up, “Malaria?”_

_“Yea, that’s what was wrong with him, wasn’t it?” Dean replied slowly, trying to jog her memory._

_Missouri shook her head and was about to reply when Daphne, who had a slight panicked look in her eye, beat her to it, “Yea, that was it. Isn’t that right, Missouri?”_

_Dean smiled and nodded Missouri eyed her like she was insane but finally replied, “Yes, that’s right. I was thinkin’ of another patient of mine.” Daphne sent her a thankful smile and Missouri continued, “But even though Cas wasn’t contagious anymore, we’d have liked to let him stay until his health was fully restored. But his daddy got back early from his business trip and checked him out two hours after you left.”_

_“Oh,” Dean utter out, disappointment starting to seep in his bones but he didn’t understand why, “Do you have his address or something that I can use? I mean, I just want to thank him for the gift he had given me.”_

_Daphne sighed sadly and shook her head, “I’m sorry, Dean, but we don’t give out a client’s information to just anyone. Besides, his father had taken him and the rest of his family on vacation somewhere for them to blow off some steam.”_

_Dean nodded reluctantly, “Okay, but do you know when he’ll be back?”_

_Missouri shook her head, “That’s not our place to ask. However, we did tell him to call us if Castiel’s Malaria started acting up again and he becomes a danger to himself or others.”_

_Dean nodded painfully and cleared his throat, “Um…okay then. Call me if you guys find out anything else about Cas, alright?”_

_“We’ll do our best.”_

_It felt like Dean’s heart had caved in on itself for some reason as he stumbled out of the hospital and numbly drove back to his house. When he had finally reached his home and walked into the kitchen, he found Sam sitting at the table all by himself eating a bowl of cereal. Sam’s head jerked up at the sound of him entering and furrowed his brow once he saw Dean’s tight facial expressions, “You okay?”_

_Dean nodded as he clutched the wooden chess piece in his hand, “Um…I’m fine, Sammy. I just had to take a drive to clear my head.”_

_Sam nodded and then his eyes moved to his balled fist, “What are you doing?”_

_Dean licked his lips and reluctantly let the chess piece fall onto the table, “I found it in the driveway just now. Pretty cool, right?”_

_“It’s a pawn.”_

_Dean rolled his eyes, “Sam, I’m not stupid. I know it’s a chess piece; not something from freaking Star Wars.”_

_Sam sighed and couldn’t fight back the smug smile on his face, “I know that, Dean. That’s just the name of that certain chess piece.”_

_“Oh…” Dean trailed off and cleared his throat, “I knew that.”_

_Sam split into a huge grin and Dean just rolled his eyes, “What? You get a kick out of making me look like an idiot?”_

_Sam’s face instant grew more sober as he quickly shook his head, “No, it’s not that. I-I just…”_

_“What?”_

_He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to his cereal bowl, “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”_

_Dean felt a soft smile work its way onto his face as he flicked his brother in the back of his head, “Don’t worry, Dork. You’re not getting rid of this sweet ass for a long time.”_

_Sam rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” He then reached to grab the wooden pawn and before Dean could even stop himself, he slapped Sam’s hand away and scooped up the chess piece up into his protective hands._

_Sam furrows his brow at his odd actions, “What’s wrong? Why can’t I see it for a minute?” **That’s a good question, Sammy, and once I figure that out, I’ll get back to you.**_

_“Because I don’t want you to get little bitch all over it.” Dean answered instead, starting to become seriously concerned about his mental state of mind. Sam stared at him strangely, probably wondering the same thing, so Dean just played cool and ruffled his brother’s brown hair before heading out of the kitchen door, “I’m going to go back up to my room to take a real nice power nap. Just don’t try to burn the house again, Samantha. We don’t want an encore from last year, now do we?”_

_“That was **one time!** ” Dean heard Sam call after him and he smiled, thankful that he was finally somewhere familiar and comfortable. When he got up to his room and collapsed onto his bed, he dreamt of blue eyes and nervous smiles…and he wasn’t complaining about it either._

Dean was suddenly brought back to the present and found himself still holding onto Castiel’s shirt to steady, staring deeply at him for who knows how long. The lunchroom was deadly silent and it took a moment for it to dawn on Dean that every single student had their gazes locked on the two.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Dean let go of him and shoved Cas to the ground, causing him to slam onto the ground on his ass. The room suddenly erupted into laughter and Dean wondered if he could ever hate himself more. He couldn’t even look at Cas in utter shame and humiliation but for some reason (though he suspected it was for punishment), his legs wouldn’t budge, making him stay in place and watch everyone bellow at Castiel’s expense. The laughter was soon expelled once they all saw someone running up to Cas and helping him to his feet. Who that someone was Dean wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.

It was Sebastian Balthazar, though now he prefered for everyone to call him by only his last name to appear more _“dramatic,”_ and he looked more pissed than he did last year when some freshmen girl beat him for the part of Peter Pan for the school’s annual musical as he helped Castiel get up. He turned to Dean and gave him such a murderous look that Dean could’ve dropped dead right there if looks could kill.

“Hey _, you filthy prick,_ watch where _the bloody hell_ you’re going?!” Balthazar growled out in his perfect English accent as he draped a protective arm around Castiel, leading him back to his table with all the other of the theatre geeks.

“Fags!” Someone called out from the crowd, making everyone erupt into laughter once again. Dean wanted so badly to call out an apology but no words came out. Castiel turned his head and sent Dean a confused and slightly hurt glance before turning back around and Dean wished with all his might that he would die right then and there for doing that to _Cas of all the asshats here!_

Once everyone calmed down and turned back to whatever they were doing before, Dean could fully operate his legs now and darted back to his own table. Everybody at his table—even Charlie, making him wonder how long he stared at Cas before making a complete dick of him—stared at him with their mouths open.

Jo was the first to speak, “Holy shit, Dean, you runnin’ for biggest asshole of the year?”

“Not fucking helping, Jo.” Dean hissed, burying his face into his hands.

“Wasn’t that Castiel?” He heard Sam ask lowly.

Dean stopped acting like a baby and brought his head up just in time to see Charlie furrowing her brow at Sam, “How the hell do you know who he is? Hell, most people from _his own grade_ don’t even know who that kid is.”

“He shared a room with Dean in the hospital.” Sam answered her before turning his attention to his brother, “Why did you do that? I thought you two were friends.”

“Dean, you even knew the kid before knocking him on his ass?!”

“Jo, you’re still not help!” Dean hissed not too softly before sighing sadly and letting his tone become gentler, “Look, I don’t know what happened back there. I-I didn’t mean to push Cas and make him the laughing stock of the whole school. I just…panicked.”

“I don’t even know what just happened and I saw it!” Charlie exclaimed, “I mean, one minute you’re eye-fucking his brains, and the next you’re throwing him down like a freaking sumo-wrestler!”

Dean groaned, “I know,” Then something about her statement finally sunk in, “Wait, what? I-I wasn’t eye-fucking anybody; especially not a freaking dude! I just…” He wanted more than anything to further explain his actions but he couldn’t find the right words to justify what he did, so he just sighed sadly, “It’s complicated.”

“I’ll say.” Jo remarked, watching Dean warily with a strange glint in her eyes.

Dean licked his lips and moved his gaze downward before asking lowly, “So, is he looking at me?”

“Which one?” Charlie asked, not even caring if anyone saw her staring at the theatre table intently.

“I’m talking about Cas,” Dean informed her before adding in disgust, “Not his stupidly over-dramatic, _heroic_ boyfriend.” He didn’t like how strange jealousy worked into his tone and hoped no one else noticed. Because he wasn’t jealous. He’s just angry and confused, not envious of that pompous British asshole just because he got to sit by Cas in the lunchroom and got to wrap an arm safely around him to shield him from the wrath of the school…no, he’s _totally_ not. Seriously, don’t say differently or he may start throwing punches.

“Castiel is _not_ Balthazar’s boyfriend,” Charlie told him, taking her eyes off the over-theatrical table look at Dean, “Though most people think differently since they always hold hands and hug everywhere—“

“ _Excuse me_?” Dean snapped before he had the chance to stop himself, his bag of chips crumbling under his tight grip.

Charlie furrowed her brow at his odd reaction and hesitated before continuing, “Um…yea, but I’m pretty sure Balthazar only does it to stand up against homophobia and to support gay rights. I mean, if he actually is dating Castiel, then somebody better inform his girlfriend.”

“Why? You startin’ to bat for the other team, Dean?” Jo teased, but it didn’t really provoke a joking reaction from her best friend.

“ _Of course not!_ Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that?” Dean snapped a little defensively, “I mean, I’m one of the biggest womanizing jackasses in this country alone! If I was gay, I would’ve found out about that years ago if I had freaking Backstreet Boys and Hanson posters all over my walls instead of Women Swimsuit Models!”

Jo threw her hands up in surrender, “Whoa, take it easy, Dude. I was just kidding around.”

Dean calmed himself down before letting out a long tired sigh, “Sorry, Jo. I didn’t mean to freak out on you there. It’s just that I’m so _sick_ of everyone asking me that.” **_Though the person who’s been asking me that the most is myself,_** he added silently in his head but went on to say, “I mean, can’t a man befriend another dude and not have everybody jumping down his throat just to see if he’s a Gaylord or not?”

“If it means anything, Dean-o, being a Gaylord isn’t half bad.” Charlie assured him with a smile.

Dean cringed at his own vocabulary, “Shit, I’m sorry, Charles. I forgot you liked chicks.”

Charlie shrugged, “Hey, it’s no biggie. I mean, seriously, what’s not to like?” To add emphasis, Charlie looked to Jo and winked seductively as a joke but Dean could’ve swore he saw Jo turn a slight shade of pink as she shoved her best friend lightly, “Knock it off, Charles.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me, Joanna Beth…” Dean’s mind drifted from their conversation and he couldn’t help but fixate his gaze over to the drama geek table, only to find Castiel already watching him intently. Dean sent his biggest apologetic grin and Castiel hesitated before returning it with a small wary smile. Dean couldn’t help but notice that Cas looked significantly better than he did at the hospital. His deathly pale skin had tanned slightly and instead of wearing the paper thin hospital gown, he was dressed in a fitted suit (who the hell wore a suit to _school_?), but his entire small body was swallowed up by a huge gaudy tan trench coat. Weird fashion sense aside, even Dean had to admit that the boy might even pass by Robert Downey Jr. for the sexist man alive (and it’s a fact, not Dean’s own opinion because he doesn’t find dudes hot. He just knew when to enjoy the view, that’s all).

Dean finally met Castiel’s blue eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Castiel’s smile never faltered as he tore his eyes off of Dean to look at his own light green dress shirt. His gaze stayed on his dress shirt for awhile and Dean wondered what the big deal was until it finally hit him.

“J-Jo,” Dean stuttered, removing his wide eyed gaze to stare wildly at the blonde, “W-What day of the week is it?”

She looked at him strangely for a moment and hesitantly replied, “Thursday. Why?”

Dean let out a groan and laid his head on the table, “Shit, I am so screwed.”

* * *

The rest of the lunch period quickly ticked by and soon, the bell rang, meaning that it was time to go to Dean’s fifth period class: Latin. Believe it or not, Latin was actually one of the very few classes Dean was looking forward to. The teacher, Miss Barnes, is an old friend of Dean’s dad and Bobby so she couldn’t be too bad; at least not as bad as Zachariah or Ms. Tapping (though even Satan himself looked like a freaking girl scout compared to those two).

He said his goodbyes to his friends and walked out of the lunchroom, only to bump into Balthazar of all fucking people. The Brit started to apologize but stopped abruptly when he turned around and saw it was Dean who he had lightly jostled. Balthazar’s eyes narrowed and a small smirk appeared on his face, “Having trouble keeping your hands to yourself today, Dean?” He seemed more in-control and collected than before, but that’s probably because Dean isn’t humiliating anybody this time.

Dean locked his jaw, “Trust me, _Sebastian_ , I wouldn’t willingly touch you with a five foot pole.”

A corner of Balthazar’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting back one of his famous shit-eating grins, “So it’s my trench-coated friend you’re into now, is it?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Seriously, one more person says that and I’m gonna puke.” He had meant to just think that statement but apparently it flew out of his mouth because Balthazar split into a knowing smirk, “I knew you batted for both teams, Dean-o. You know, I really wish I could throw in a good word for you to Cassie but if you couldn’t already tell,” He leaned in and said lowly, “I don’t particularly like you.”

Dean jerked away from him, “Dude, I am not gay!” Balthazar rolled his eyes at his statement and it only made Dean madder, “You know what? At least I have better things to do than spend all my time doing _Community Theatre_ that nobody goes to!”

Balthazar didn’t even look remotely offended, probably after hearing that jab so many times has made him immune, and just shrugged, “You should try it some time, Dean. It really lets the real you come out. And it looks like you probably need that right now.” Balthazar started to grin like a Cheshire cat once he saw Dean visibly stiffed at his statement, “We’re holding try-outs for _The Great Gatsby_ in a month. Maybe you could give it a try. You’d be a shoe in for the part of Daisy Buchanan. It suits your personality.”

“Drop dead.” Dean growled out before storming off in search of room 302, ignoring the sudden feeling that a mysterious figure was watching him all the way there.

* * *

He had found his designated classroom easily and entered the room with minutes to spare before the bell rings. The room was empty so Dean just chose a random seat and plopped down on it. He pulled out his phone and started to entertain himself until everyone else decides to show up.

He was so wrapped in his intense game of Fruit Ninja, he actually _fell out of his chair_ in surprise when he heard a familiar deep voice say behind him, “That pointless source of entertainment does not make any sense nor clear purpose.” He was about to spew several kinds of profanities to the asshat that made him fall to the ground but his mind went blank the second he saw who it was hovering over him with clear concern written on his face, “Are you alright, Dean? I didn’t intend to say anything to offend. I just don’t quite grasp the enjoyment of slicing fruit like a ‘ninja’ when it is obviously a chef’s job to cut food products; fruit included. Ninjas have no proper training skills for slicing food and certainly wouldn’t risk dulling their Ninjatos just to slice the ingredients for a fruit salad.”

Dean split out into a relived grin, “Cas.”

Castiel did his famous head tilt, “Did you mistake me for someone else? I mean, I had thought that wearing a suit and extremely over-sized trench coat during the summer is very noticeable.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Though I do suspect that anyone who’d been trying to locate me will have no trouble now after lunch today.” He didn’t say it to make Dean feel guilty nor even remotely sad, but stated it so casually like he was just talking about the weather…which only made Dean feel even worse.

Dean got back up onto his feet and sighed, forcing himself to meet Castiel’s cool gaze, “Listen, Cas, I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. I was a total asshole and you have every reason to hate my guts.” He took a step forward and looked around to make sure they were alone before tilting his head toward Cas and closing his eyes, “Here, just take a quick swing before anybody comes in and we’ll be even.”

He heard Cas sigh, “Dean, I’m not going to—“

“C’mon, Castiel, it’s okay. I deserve it.” Dean encouraged, waiting patiently for the hit but it never came. Dean sighed sadly and opened his eyes to find Castiel watching him strangely with a tight expression. Dean arched an eyebrow, “What? You wanna kick me instead? That’s fine, I guess, but just not in the face—“

“Dean, I, under absolute _no_ circumstances, would _ever_ strike another person.” Castiel told him strongly before adding more quietly, “Especially you.” Dean doesn’t know why he added that last statement since Dean has barely done anything nice to Cas today.

Dean swallowed hard, “Look—“

“Yes, you may have acted like the slang use of the male genitalia but you didn’t mean for any of the harsh repercussions to occur.” Castiel said forcefully, ignoring Dean’s protests.

Dean wanted more than anything to make Castiel stop trying to justify his actions but knew he wouldn’t agree to anything different. So he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Then what else can I do to show you I’m not a total bastard?”

Castiel slowly slipped into a smile and opened his mouth to reply when the bell rang. In an instant, kids started bolting into the room and if Dean hadn’t stepped out of the way in time, he would’ve been flattened like a pancake. He let out a breath of relief and turned to sat something to Castiel, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Dean swept his gaze across the whole room and if he wasn’t so focused on seeing a dirty tan trench coat, he wouldn’t missed him.

There Castiel was sitting in the very back corner desk on the totally other side of the room, slumping into his chair as he looked like he was trying to be invisible, which would be working if Dean hadn’t had his eye out for him. If Dean wasn’t specifically looking for him, he would’ve missed him completely because of Castiel’s unnatural talent to always fade into the background.

Dean wanted more than anything to spend the whole class time just staring at Cas (wow, could he sound anymore creepier?) but knew that wouldn’t happen when he heard the door open. Reluctantly, he sat back down in his seat and turned his attention to the teacher. He saw a beautiful woman that didn’t look a day over twenty-five with dark hair that just reached her shoulders and smooth tan skin. But Dean didn’t see what was truly special about her until she finally took off her black sunglasses, revealing the smoky cloud of gray that covered her would-be-flawless eyes.

Dean, along with almost all of the other students in the class, jumped in surprise. The teacher smiled, “Hello, Class. My name is Miss Barnes. I will be your Latin teacher for the year.” Dean swallowed hard and took one fleeting glance at Castiel, only to the boy trying to fight back a smile as he looked around to all of the students’ shocked and slightly terrified expressions.

But Castiel looked unfazed at all at their teacher’s strange disability; actually, he regarded the blind woman with a warm, almost loving gaze as his eyes finally settled onto her. He stared at her for only a second before settling his eyes on Dean but by the way his face quickly changed from amused delight to outright confusion, it was obvious that Cas wasn’t expecting Dean to already be watching him. As soon as they made eye-contact, Dean broke his stare and focused onto the teacher, even though she did sort of creep him out a bit.

“So,” Miss Barnes drawled out as she used her cane to find her desk, “Why don’t we start assigning seats and get started.”

* * *

The class period ticked by rather slowly but Dean did happen to learn a few things. One: just because Miss Barnes is blind, doesn’t mean she can’t see. She can tell when you’re out of your seat, passing notes, talking (even when it’s barely audible), and even when you raise your hand. Two: Miss Barnes didn’t like anyone in his class other than Castiel. She always called on him to do everything, even though he never raised his hand to volunteer. Dean could swear that the two probably knew each other by the way Castiel looked at her with a warm familiarity glint in his blue eyes and the way Miss Barnes only spoke to Castiel with a slight ring of affection in her tone.

He doesn’t know how, but apparently everybody knew at least who Castiel was when Dean didn’t even know he went to this school until lunch. And that bothered the hell out of him more than he’d ever admit. Dean had been living here ever since he was born and has a lot of pride on knowing what and when everything went on in this back-watered town, sometimes even before it happens (one of the very few perks of being raised in a small town where you know everything about everyone in every second of every day), so that’s why he was so furious (and slightly curious) that everything had suddenly become so unpredictable the minute he first laid eyes on Castiel.

First, Ms. Eve, a woman who’d been the principal at his high school for as long as Dean could even remember, got replaced by an uptight woman Dean didn’t know nor particularly like. Then, it was his own precious little Sammy getting warped and brainwashed into thinking Ruby was a nice sweet girl when she is definitely anything but. Now, he had a blind Latin teacher that didn’t act blind at all. Things had turned very peculiar around this town, and Dean has a feeling it all had something to do with a certain pair of blue eyes.

Just as Dean was about to fall asleep due to a significant amount of absolute boredom, the bell rang. Most students shot out of the room without so much as a goodbye but Dean decided to hang back and start interrogating Cas for answers. He looked over to where Castiel had been sitting only to find it empty, which was something Dean should start getting used to considering all of the times Cas has done it in the past. With a heavy sigh, Dean collected his books and said a farewell to Miss Barnes before entering the crowded hallway full of buzzing kids. He knew sixth period wasn’t going to start for another seven minutes so he just decided to hang out around his locker to kill time. He should’ve known better because the minute he began to relax, Alastair and his gang pounced on him.

“If I didn’t know any better, Winchester, I’d think you’ve been avoiding us.” Al said with a devilish as he walked over to stand beside him.

Dean sighed, “Sorry, I’ve just had my hands full with making sure Sammy was okay. The guy’s been acting like a needy girlfriend ever since he stepped on school grounds.” He knew he couldn’t use Sam as an excuse all the time but he was too tired and frustrated to come up with a better lie.

Ruby grinned wildly at the name of Dean’s brother, “Yea, we’ve met. Dean-o, why didn’t you ever tell me how hot your little brother got over the summer?”

“He is a Winchester, after all.” Bela piped up, giving Dean a once over before winking playfully.

Dean locked his jaw and glared at Ruby, “Yea, about that—“

He was interrupted by Alastair slapping his side and hissing none too quietly, “Look, there he is!” Dean sighed tiredly, wondering what poor sap is going to be Alastair’s target _this_ year and reluctantly followed the group’s cruel gaze…that landed straight on Castiel Novak. _His_ Castiel Novak (well, not exactly _his_ Castiel, but you get the picture…). The boy was stationed at his locker putting his books away in his tidy locker and getting out others for his next class.

Dean’s heart felt like it stopped beating but he forced himself to act cool as he shrugged carelessly, “What about him?”

Alastair instantly switched his unforgiving gaze onto Dean and raised an eyebrow, “You don’t remember?”

“I remember shoving him in the lunchroom,” Dean replied in such an effortlessly casual tone that it physically ached, “Why? Is there something else I don’t know about?” He wanted desperately for Alastair to say no since the lunchroom fiasco would be over by the end of the week and then the over-compensating Neanderthal would just forget Cas and move on to another target.

But all hopes of that happening was shattered when Alastair shot Dean a dirt look and snapped, “Dean, do you _ever_ pay attention when I speak?” **_Say something actually worth a shit and then we’ll talk._**

Dean rolled his eyes, “Stop being a baby and just tell me already. Besides, I probably wasn’t there when you were talking about it.” It was a flat out lie since Dean usually tuned out every time the guy opened his big fat gossiping mouth, but luckily Alastair was too stupid to catch his deceit.

Alastair still halfway glared at him but Dean knew he couldn’t resist an opportunity to talk shit about people, “That’s Castiel Milton, aka the gay freak show that spent his whole summer in the hospital after he tried to kill himself.”

Dean knew that wasn’t even remotely right and shook his head, “No, that’s Castiel _Novak_. He just had Malaria.” He saw the strange looks he received from the group so he just shrugged and added, “Or that’s what I heard, that is.”

Bela rolled her eyes, “Whoever told you that is a flat out liar or just an idiot. I cheer with his sister, Anna, and their last name is _Milton_.” **_Castiel has a sister? He only mentioned brothers to me…_**

Though the sense of dread in the pit of his stomach said to stop asking questions and ignore them, Dean couldn’t help but want to prove them wrong, “And who’s your reliable source? Maybe they’re the idiot.”

Alastair snorted, “Trust me, Winchester, I may get all D’s on my report card but I’m not wrong about this. I have a police scanner in my room and I heard them specifically say the Milton’s address and that the emergency was a suicide attempt.” He shrugged, “I got curious and had one of the nerds to hack into the hospital files. That’s when I found one that said that Castiel Milton was black and blue in bruise recovering from a failed suicide. Turns out, somebody kicked that guy’s lily white ass before he decided to swallow his family’s whole medicine cabinet.”

Dean felt his head starting to spin and he had to lean against the wall of lockers to keep from passing out. **_That’s not true. They’re just morons. Why would Cas ever lie to you?_**

“Dean, you okay?” He heard Ruby ask him but he just waved her off.

“It’s just those damn chicken burritos my mom fed me last night.” He answered weakly, clutching his stomach in fake pain.

Alastair looked to the clock, “Well, we gotta get to class soon before that bitch Naomi gives us detention… _again_.” **_At least I wasn’t the only one,_** Dean had thought to try and lift his spirits but it still didn’t stop his head from spinning and his heart and stomach from being on fire.

Dean nodded, “Um…why don’t you guys go on ahead. I’ll see you later.”

“But what about you?”

Dean swallowed hard, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom before heading to Woodshop.” This seemed to satisfy the three because they said their goodbyes and went to their designated classrooms.

As soon as they were out of sight, Dean jerked his head back around and found Castiel now walking in the middle between Balthazar and Meg Masters to their next class. He ran after them and grabbed Castiel by the collar from behind in an attempt to stop him from running away when Dean started demanding for answers. But as soon as Dean just touched him, Meg whipped around and slammed her fist into his gut as she growled, “Hey, Asshole, pick on somebody your own size!”

Meg Masters was the baddest girl at Lawrence High and wouldn’t hesitate to kick somebody’s ass if necessary. She was only a junior and had already been suspended six times. She should had been expelled ages ago but since her father was the one and only Mr. Azazel, the school won’t touch her. She used to hang out with Ruby a long time ago but when Ruby got popular by being known as the high school’s slut, she dropped Meg without a beat to hang out with the stuck up in-crowd. Now, she hung out with anybody who could stomach her presence for long. Dean guessed that since Meg is Balthazar’s girlfriend now, she’d be hanging around the theatre crowd until the Brit finally wised up and dropped her sorry ass.

Dean hissed in pain and accidentally released his grip on Castiel. Cas looked ready to bolt out of there and start running for the hills but he stopped and relaxed once he realized who was behind him, “Dean?” He asked in a confused tone as he turned around to look at him, “What are you doing?”

“I need to talk to you, Cas. Like, right now.” Dean told him in a slightly pained tone, trying to recover from Meg’s stronger-than-he-expected-from-a-girl blow.

Cas looked ready to agree but Balthazar stopped him by shaking his head and saying quickly, “Sorry, Old Sport, but we need to get to—“

“Stuff it, Jay Gatsby, I wasn’t talking to you.” Dean cut him off in a harsh tone that made Castiel step away from him with slight fear on his face. Dean regained his composure and (reluctantly) regarded Balthazar with a gentler tone, “Look, I just need to speak to Cas privately for a moment. I would hope that you could detach yourself from his side for five minutes.”

Balthazar and Meg glared daggers at him but Cas smiled weakly and said, “It’s okay, Guys. It’s just Dean. I’ll be fine.” They still looked unsure but by the look in Castiel’s eyes, they knew they needed to back off. Meg nodded reluctantly and leaned into Castiel before she said lowly, “If you’re not in sixth period in ten minutes, I’ll gladly kill him.”

Cas rolled his eyes but smiled, “That’s much appreciated, Meg, but I assure you homicide won’t be necessary.”

Meg smiled and leaned back before taking her boyfriend’s hand to tug him away, “See you in Heaven then, Clarence.”

When the two were out of sight, Castiel opened his mouth to say something but Dean cut him off, “Is it true, Cas?”

His brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side, “Is what true?”

“Anything you’ve said to me since day one.”

Cas’ smile dropped and his face slipped into an unreadable expression, “I don’t know what you are referring to, Dean. Um…Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go—“ He seemed in hurry to get out of there but Dean had caught him by the arm and held him firmly in place with his strong grip, “So Alastair is right then.” Dean said more coldly, “You’ve been lying about everything, haven’t you?”

Castiel didn’t respond and it only made Dean clutch him tighter and his tone became more desperate and angrier by the second, “Cas, dammit, answer me.”

Cas’ gaze shifted downward as he bit his lip, “I-I don’t know what you are talking about, Dean. Please, just let me go.”

“Not until I get an answer.”

Cas swallowed hard and Dean could have sworn he saw Castiel’s eyes grow a little damp, “D-Dean, there is simply n-nothing to tell. Please, just leave me alone.”

“What else have you been lying about, huh?” Dean demanded, ignoring Castiel’s pleas, “Did you even come into my bedroom that night and leave that stupid chess piece? Or will you just take credit for that, too?”

He visibly flinched as if Dean’s words had physically hurt him, “Y-You don’t understand, Dean. _Please_ , just stop and leave it alone.”

“No, I won’t stop. I want the truth from _you_. Not from Alastair, not from any other of my so called ‘friends,’ not from anyone else except _you_. But you can’t even give me that.” He jerked Castiel back until he was inches away from his face and by the way Castiel went white as a sheet, he must have looked pretty terrifying, “Anything else you want to lie your way out of?”

“W-What exactly do you want to know?” Cas asked softly, his breath becoming more shallow and quick. Dean didn’t like seeing Cas like this; especially when he knew he was the one who was causing it. Dean released him and backed away a little, but Castiel didn’t run away like Dean had expected him to. Cas stayed in the exact same spot and kept his wide eyed (slightly wet) gaze on Dean, waiting for him to respond.

He stared at Castiel for a minute, not saying anything for a long while before he finally blurted out, “Who are you really, Castiel?”

The boy let out a shaky breath and answered weakly, “I told you. My name is Castiel Novak—“

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Dean stated flatly, “I know for a _fact_ that you’re last name is Milton—“

“ _No, it is not!_ ” Castiel snapped in a suddenly strong and harsh voice, ocean blue eyes starting to turn into dark gray, “Just because some _stupid_ adoption papers say it is, doesn’t mean it’s true!” He paused before saying more calmly, “At least not to me.”

Dean let that piece of information process until he said quietly, “So now we’re getting somewhere.” He looked around and saw that the halls were now completely empty, meaning that somewhere between their little scene, the bell had rang and they were both already late. But it didn’t matter to Dean right now; the only thing that mattered was the one person in front of him that would rather tell pretty lies than the ugly truth.

“Why did you lie to me, Cas?” Dean asked bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore, “I thought we were friends. I thought…I thought I could trust that you were telling the truth.”

“Oh please,” Cas scoffed bitterly, rolling his eyes, “You would’ve never even looked in my direction if you knew I was some suicidal basket case.” He took a step forward and said quieter, “Nobody wanted anything to do with me after the stunt I tried to pull. Why would you be any different?”

Dean’s steel-like gaze softened, “Cas, it wouldn’t have mattered to me.—”

“Don’t you try to play that card on me, Dean Winchester! _Don’t you even dare!”_ Cas moved fast and suddenly Dean found himself being pinned to the locker wall as his eyes were lit in flames, “You wouldn’t have given me the time of day and you know it! Now tell me, _Dean_ , is it a crime for wanting you to remember me as an actual person and not as some suicidal nut job, or a sick psychotic freak, or a…” His voice broke and his tone became softer and sadder, “…or a gay faggot that tries to go out the easy way even though I knew I was going to hell for committing such a horrid sin? But in my state of mind back then…it seemed better than staying here.”

The anger finally left Castiel’s eyes as pure remorse and over-whelming sadness soon filled its place as his tone became even more guilty and weak, “And I am so sorry, Dean. I truly am. I didn’t know you’d actually remember my existence after that day, much less talk to me again. I just…thought you would forget about me like everyone else does.” He waited for Dean to respond but he could barely let his words register in his mind, much less actually replying to them.

After a painful three minutes of silence, Castiel sighed sadly and let one tear roll down his cheek before finally releasing his strong grip on Dean, “That is what I had expected. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go to class before Meg calls in a swat team.”

He started to walk away but Dean stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, “Cas, please wait.”

“Dean, I think it is better for both of us if we don’t speak to each other anymore,” Cas stated flatly before adding more coldly, “And my name isn’t _Cas_. It’s Castiel.”

And as he watched Castiel walk down the hall, Dean felt his heart break in two for the boy with sad blue eyes that actually thought that Dean would willingly give him up without a fight.

* * *

Woodshop was uneventful and Dean spent the whole period picking his brain for any indication that proved that Castiel was lying to him at the hospital that day. There was that time when Castiel had stared at him blankly when Dean had mentioned his Malaria and the time when Missouri had looked terribly confused when Dean had told her about Cas’ supposed sickness. He should have seen it coming, but he didn’t. Dean Winchester was finally wrong about something for a change, and it just had to be about this one situation that Dean kept hoping was just a dream. But Dean knew it wasn’t and that just made him even sadder.

He also wondered what drove Cas to suicide. He was a freaking _Milton_ for crying out loud, the richest and most envied family that ever stepped foot in all of Kansas. All Milton children were practically teen idols in Lawrence and could make anyone do anything they want with just a snap of their fingers.

The oldest Milton child was Michael, who was already twenty-four years old and still living at home (but most people say he only stayed in this town to raise the rest of his siblings while their parents remain MIA due to “business” or something like that). Dean met him once back when he was dating Anna, Michael’s sister, and he was not exaggerating when he said that Mike was a controlling psychopath that wanted to kill anybody who socialized with his family—especially the poor boy in a cracked leather jacket and dusty old blue jeans that only wanted to get in his sister’s pants.

The second oldest was Nick, who was just one year younger than his older brother. Dean’s never met him face-to-face but he knew plenty about that sociopath from the rumor mill. Even though it happened three years ago, everybody still talkdc about how Nick went off the deep end and tried to poison his whole family. Luckily, one of the Milton children (Dean can’t remember which one for the life of him) found out and ratted him out to their father. The next thing Nick knew, he’s being shipped off to prison for life with eight attempted murder charges. The last thing Dean’s heard about Nick was that he changed his name to Lucifer and joined some prison gang in Washington DC.

The next sibling in line was twenty year old Raphael. Unlike Michael, he was actually going to college (sure, he did it online and still lived at home but hey, at least he was going) and was working up to his Doctorate degree in Med School to become some fancy surgeon or something like that.

Gabriel was after Raphael at the young age of eighteen, meaning that he was still a senior at high school like Dean. He was the school clown and always played wicked pranks on everyone, no matter if you were his best friend or his worst enemy. Dean suspected that Gabe was the brother Castiel had told him about a month ago in the hospital; if he was even telling the truth about that part, that is.

After Gabriel, it was Anna, who was only seventeen (Dean had thought that she was the youngest but he was apparently mistaken with Castiel in the picture). Anna Milton was what every girl strived to be: beautiful, popular, funny, charming, and has every boy wrapped around her finger. She was only a junior and had been the homecoming queen for three years in a row. She’s also the captain of the cheer squad and woman softball team (both have won national awards throughout the country all because of Anna’s bending abilities and her wicked fast spall). Dean had dated Anna a few years back for maybe a month before dumping her for the way hotter Lisa Braeden and Anna didn’t take it very well. Let’s just say that she messed with the wrong guy’s little brother and got her brand new jeep totaled in the school parking lot.

But like he was saying, the Milton kids had had everything handed to them on a silver platter and was the apple to everybody’s eye, so what happened to Cas that was so traumatic that resulted with him trying to end his own life? He said he had known the consequence of supposedly going to hell (honestly, Dean didn’t know if he believed in God or not, but he did know that the Milton family were hardcore Christians and religion was everything to them), so why would he go through with it?

Suddenly, Castiel’s words found their way into his head, _“Because in my state of mind back then…it seemed better than staying here.”_ But not long after that statement appear in his mind, Alastair’s did also, _“Turns out, somebody kicked the guy’s lily white ass before he decided to swallow his family’s whole medicine cabinet.”_ **_He did it all because of some stupid beating? Hell, I used to get my ass kicked every day before I started toughening up and defending myself._** But then Dean started to think that maybe it wasn’t all because of Cas getting his ass whooped. Maybe it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Before Dean could analyze anything further, the bell rang, jerking him out of his thoughts. He slowly picked up his books and shuffled out into the hallway. He moved toward his next class, which as AP English with Mr. Shurley (the only Advanced Placement class he’s ever had in his whole life and most likely the last), but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Alastair trying to shove a scrawny guy with black hair into a locker. Before he could even process what was happening, Dean felt an over-whelming fear that it was Castiel and broke out into a dead run, throwing his books down to the floor, “Alastair, _what the hell do you think you’re doing_?”

Alastair stopped at the sound of Dean’s voice and jerked his head up to see a very pissed off Dean Winchester, “Protecting my rep, Man. I made a goal to shove at least one smartass nerd in a locker a day.”

“Well, not this nerd.” Dean growled out and shoved the Alastair out of the way to get the boy out of the locker.

Alastair stared at him with a curious and slightly pissed off gaze, “Dude, what the hell is your problem today?”

“Just get to class, Alastair.” Dean ordered harshly and unsurprisingly, Al shot him a dirty look and cussed him out under his breath before reluctantly walking away to head toward his seventh period. Dean sighed as he carefully tried to pry him out of the locker, “Dammit, Cas, why the hell did you—“

“Who’s Cas?” The kid asked in a surprisingly high-pitched voice that made Dean do a double take. Not caring if he hurt the kid anymore since it wasn’t Castiel, Dean yanked the guy out and discovered it wasn’t Castiel like he had first thought it was; it was Garth, aka Jo’s weird and obsessive lover boy.

“Garth?” Dean said in absolute shock since Garth usually kept to himself and would never pick a fight with _anybody_ in a million years, ”What did you do to piss off Alastair?”

“I uh…may have shoved him a little when he was teasing me about J-Jo.” Garth spoke the words hesitantly and quietly, as if he was scared Dean was actually mad at _him_.

Dean stiffened at the name of his best friend, “What did he say about her?”

“Um…t-that I didn’t stand a chance with ‘a piece of ass like that.’”

Dean clenched his teeth so hard he’s shocked that none of them broke as he growled, “Oh, that asshole it _totally_ dead. If Jo doesn’t hear about this first, that is. Then he’d _wish_ he was dead.”

When Dean started to walk towards Alastair’s next period and rough him up in front of his whole class, Garth stopped him and shook his head, “Wait, you can’t get him now without getting in trouble with Ms. Tapping. Trust me, as soon as he steps off of school grounds tomorrow after school, we’ll jump him.”

Dean started to nod but stopped when he heard something he didn’t quite grasp in Garth’s statement, “Whoa, ‘ _we?’_ ”

Garth grinned and nodded, “Hells yea, I gotta protect my woman.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Garth, Joanna Beth Harvelle is not ‘ _your woman_.’ She can barely stay in the same room as you.”

“At the moment, yes, but once she gets to know me and, you know, stops blocking all my calls and instant messages, she’ll be all over me!”

Dean had to fight the urge to gag and groaned, “Garth, I’m telling you—“ He stopped abruptly when he saw what time it was. 2:12pm. Three minutes until the bell rang and seventh period started. Dean sighed and reluctantly looked to Garth, “Okay, fine. Whatever. We can talk about this later but right now I gotta get to class.

The sophomore smiled and slapped him on the back, “You got yourself a deal, Dean Bean. I’ll meet you outside the janitor’s closet tomorrow morning.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he collected his books from the floor, “Call me that again and I’ll shove my fist down your throat.”

“Whatever you say, Kemosabe!” Garth called after him like he was his freaking best friend and they were just joking around (but Dean was deadly serious about his threats; especially with it being Garth since the guy annoys the hell out of him) as Dean raced down the hallway to get as far away from Garth as possible. He was running so fast, he almost missed his classroom. Dean waited until he caught his breath before slowly pushing the door open, revealing the whole room in the middle of an uproar.

Turns out, English whizzes were pretty much animalistic considering how most of them were either standing up on their desks and yelling or running around the room like maniacs. The teacher was nowhere in sight to tame them so Dean just sighed tiredly as he looked around for a desk that wasn’t stained with gum and yellow Gatorade (or at least he hoped it was yellow Gatorade…), and that’s when he saw him.

It was Castiel sitting in the only remotely clean desk at the back of his room, seemingly oblivious to the rambunctious scene around him. Dean felt his mouth go dry and suddenly the whole world felt as though it was going in slow motion as he felt himself being pulled towards him. Castiel didn’t even see him coming since his head was buried in a book, so he about jumped out of his skin when he heard Dean’s confident and casual voice ask with his head tilted toward the empty desk beside him, “Is this seat taken?”


	4. Let's Be Nobodies Together

Dean didn’t like how his stomach started doing summersaults as he waited patiently for Castiel, who was watching with a disbelieved look on his face, to answer. But after standing there for a few minutes with nothing responding to him but dead silence while all hell broke loose around them, Dean sighed and just plopped down into the seat anyway, “Oookay, somebody’s not too talkative.”

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas asked bluntly, finally recovering his lost voice. **_Yea…what am I doing again?_**

Dean tried to push down his growing anxiety and shrugged casually, “Nothing much other than just sitting here and thinking of all the ways I could slit everyone’s throats if they don’t pipe the fuck down.”

Cas looked like he was trying his absolute hardest not to smile (much to Dean’s disappointment since he liked the way the boy’s blue eyes lit up when he showed his perfect white teeth…because, you know, Dean likes dental hygiene and lively eyes. Of course, it has nothing to do with the beautiful boy sitting at the desk beside him. No, not at all…) as he attempted say in his most serious voice, “Dean, I thought I had made myself clear about the subject concerning our friendship earlier in the hallway.”

“Oh you made yourself clear, Cas. Crystal even,” Dean assured him before shrugging carelessly and adding, “I just don’t care.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up at his statement and his lips betrayed him by letting a small hopeful smile grace his angelic face. But in just a mere millisecond, the smile was gone and his newly hardened eyes matched his now cold expression, “We really shouldn’t be speaking anymore, Dean.”

“Why not, Cas?” Dean asked the question that’s been on his mind ever since he had walked away from him in the hallway earlier, “So what if I found out about your _big bad secret_? Yea, you did lie to me and I’m still kinda pissed about it, but that’s in the past now. I still think you’re pretty cool and I was sort of hoping we could be…friends.” **_Friends? Oh you’re hilarious, Dean._**

“But—“

“There’s no buts about it, Castiel.” Dean interrupted in a forceful tone, “Seriously, why the hell does you swallowing some pills mean that we can’t hang out anymore?”

“Because all it does is point out that you’re still popular and I’m still just a freak.” Cas snapped, tearing his eyes off of Dean to stare hard at the floor with a tight, wounded expression. He waited patiently with a tense and stiff posture for him to respond, as if he was afraid Dean would suddenly realize that he was right and turn his back on him forever. Yea, like Dean could ever do that even if he tried.

“You’re not a freak, Cas,” Dean told him strongly once he found his voice, “You’re just…very, _very_ peculiar.”

And finally, it was that statement that suddenly brought a smile to the boy’s face. But it wasn’t any of his shy smiles that he’d given Dean countless of times or the forgiving and understanding smile he’d given Dean at the lunchroom today; it was a huge _glowing_ smile that showed all over his face like Dean had never even seen before.

Dean couldn’t help but grin back as he opened his mouth to hopefully keep that beautiful smile intact but he was cut off by the bell ringing and the classroom door busting open. Every student suddenly stopped what they were doing to stare at the person standing in the doorway. It was a newly middle aged man—Dean guesses maybe late twenties or very early thirties—that had crazy matted brown hair that stuck up every which way like he had ran a hand through it too many times and thick black framed glasses. He straightened his posture as he cleared his throat and tried to smooth down his hair before marching to the teacher’s desk with his head held high, though Dean could plainly recognize a hangover when he saw one.

“Everyone, please be seated.” The man ordered in a strong tone and the very confused students did as they were told, all looking at him with the same bewildered expression that read like ‘ _this shameful mess couldn’t possibly be the highly respected published author and sharp teacher, right?_ ’

The man ignored their shocked stares as he picked up one of the dry board markers (revealing his terribly unsteady and shaky hands) and wrote his name on the board, “Hello, Class, and welcome to AP English. My name is Mr. Shurley and I’ll be your teacher for the year.” His voice was groggy and tired, like he had just gotten out of bed and was just going through the motions until he could finally go back home. Dean liked him already.

You see, teachers that don’t give a shit seem to understand how students actually feel. They know that most of the students won’t listen to their constant ramblings and accept that—not like the stuck up pushy teachers that just love to hear themselves fucking talk.

“Any questions so far?”

Pure silence answered him, causing Mr. Shurley to let out a long sigh, “Anyway, since this classroom is full of people from different grades, you guys barely know each other, right?” Dean and most of the other student knew where this was heading so no one even dared to reply.

It only took one idiot freshmen to nod his head to make Mr. Shurley smile and continue (much to everyone’s dismay), “That’s what I thought. Now, I know this is just the first day of school but I think it’s better to just get this project out of the way. So, I expect for everyone to find a partner, preferably someone you don’t know much about, and begin starting a two hundred word essay on your partner’s past, family, likes, dislikes, and something that you had misjudged about them. You only have two weeks to complete this, so it would be wise to meet your partner somewhere else other than on school grounds to finish it.” The teacher then sighed and sluggishly moved towards the door, “Now, everyone pick a partner and get started while I get myself a well needed cup of hot coffee.”

As soon as Mr. Shurley went out of the room and shut the door, the classroom went into a frenzy. Everyone raced to their ideal partners and instantly started messing around instead of beginning on the paper like they were supposed to. Dean swept his gaze around the room and recognized most of the faces, but he would never even recall their names in a million years. A soft feminine voice tore him out of his thoughts, “E-Excuse me, Dean?”

His head jerked back around and he found himself staring at a pretty blonde girl with big stormy eyes and an even bigger rack. He couldn’t help but break out his signature smirk, thinking about how he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a week ever since that end of the summer party Bela Talbot threw, “What can I do for you, Sweetheart?”

She smiled, her cheeks turned a very slight shade of pink, “Um…yea, I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to be my partner…?”

He thought she was hotter than hell and knew he could probably get into her pants a couple times if he agrees, but then a picture of deep ocean blue eyes and a damn dirty trench coat found its way into his subconscious and he found himself saying, “Sorry, but I already have a partner.”

Her face fell, making it obvious that he wasn’t the only one who was shocked that he turned down a chance to possibly get laid, “Oh…I-I’m sorry. I guess I’ll just go and find somebody else. I-It was nice talking to you.”

The girl tried to walk away but Dean stopped her and gave her a lazy smile, “Hey now, I can’t leave you empty handed, can I? Here, to make it up to you, why don’t we go out this Saturday night? Completely my treat.”

Her smile reappeared and she was practically bouncing now (making it hard for Dean to focus on her eyes instead of her breasts), “That sounds amazing.” She then took out a piece of paper and scribbled some numbers down before handing it to him, “Here’s my cellphone number. Text me later about our plans, okay?”

“Definitely, Miss…?”

“Jessica,” She supplied and stuck out her hand, “Jessica Moore. But most people just call me Jess.”

Dean grinned and kissed the back of her hand, “Then until we meet again, _Jess_.”

She beamed at him and said goodbye before scurrying back to her group of girlfriends, probably about to babble excitedly about her plans with the elusive and infamous Dean Winchester that most likely won’t even remember her name the morning when he wakes up next to her. Jess cut a small glance at Dean and he winked at her, causing her to blush furiously and duck her head.

Now fully satisfied with proving how much he loves women and how totally not gay he was, Dean turned back around in his seat and found Castiel still sitting at his desk with his eyes glued to his book, though Dean’s almost certain he was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Dean knew Castiel noticed that he was staring blatantly at him but he never looked up from that damn book.

“Seriously, am I that hideous?” Dean mocked, grinning teasingly at him after ten whole minutes of Castiel avoiding his gaze.

“Who said you were hideous?” Cas asked, finally lifting up his gaze to stare at Dean intently. He kept his eyes on Dean with a serious and curious expression for a long time before he finally just shrugged and concluded, “You don’t look hideous to me, Dean. Whoever had informed you of that assumption must need their eyes checked or is just trying to lower your self-esteem by telling you false observations.”

Dean rolled his eyes, though he found himself practically beaming on the inside that Cas thought he wasn’t completely hideous (it wasn’t a total compliment but he’d take anything he could get), “Gee, anymore talk like that and you’ll have to buy me new underwear.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, opening his mouth to respond but Dean beat him to it.

“So, Cas,” Dean began as casual sounding as he could, “When should we get started on this stupid thing?”

The boy stared at him in confusion for a moment with a furrowed brow before he finally asked, “Your statement does not make any sense to me, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes but felt himself starting to smile, “I’m asking you to be my partner, Einstein. But apparently I was being too subtle.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth soon after and just continued to watch him with a bewildered expression for a few more seconds before he opened his mouth again, this time words coming out, “B-But…why?”

Dean cleared his throat and shrugged, “Why not?”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy Cas because he just continued to stare at him before he finally said softly, “But, Dean…I’m nobody.”

Dean’s heart sunk at his words and he suddenly had the need to tell him how completely wrong he was. How he was sort of cool and smart and funny and nice and amazing and just _perfect_ …but he knew Cas wouldn’t take any of his words seriously, no matter how true they really were.

So instead he let a small smile form onto his lips and hesitantly replied, “Well, deep down…I’m nobody, too.” Cas stared at him with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes for a moment before he reluctantly started to smile back at him. He didn’t remember how long they stayed like that; all he recalled was hearing the bell ring after a long while, causing the two boys to finally break out of their trance.

Dean looked down and started to gather up his stuff to go to his last period when he felt a slender hand grab his wrist. He lifted his head up and found it was just Castiel who was watching him with a slightly anxious expression, as if he was afraid that Dean would be angry at Cas for touching him. Oh, if he only knew.

“I um…” Cas started quietly before retracting his hand from Dean to write something on a small piece of paper. He then slowly put it on top of Dean’s stuff and avoided his gaze as he said shyly, “I’m busy most days because of my tutoring sessions and extracurricular after school activities, but I’m free today after four o’clock. W-We could meet up somewhere and start working.“

“Be at my house at seven o’clock, okay?” Dean told him before adding, “I would like for us to start earlier but that stupid bitch of a principal is making me stay after school for three hours everyday for the next couple weeks.”

Cas stiffened at his last statement and went quiet for a few moments before finally replying, “Yes, that is most unfortunate. Naomi can go quite over-board at times.” He then looked to the clock and swallowed hard before picking up his things and heading toward the door, “I have to go to Band practice now. It was nice speaking to you again, Dean.”

Dean nodded and started heading out of the room also, “You too, Cas. Remember, my house at seven, alright?”

Cas threw a glance at him over his shoulder, “Um…perhaps our meeting could be set earlier today if Ms. Tapping would reconsider your punishment.”

Dean sighed, “I wouldn’t hold your breath on it. Naomi’s sort of a hard ass and won’t give a fuck if I have other plans; even if they really are academic.”

Cas nodded and pursed his lips together, “Well…maybe someone can convince her otherwise”

He snorted, “Yea, that’ll be the day.” Dean then did a half-hearted salute to him and finally started to make his way to his last class, Gym. He didn’t remember that Cas had laid a tiny piece of paper on his books until he was halfway to his destination. Dean looked down and his heart almost stopped beating when he saw a phone number written in the same perfect handwriting that the note Dean had found in his room one month earlier was. Then the realization suddenly hit him like a bag of bricks.

Cas had just given him his phone number.

Meaning that he wants Dean to call him.

And Dean can now talk to Cas any time he wants.

_Holy shit._

After he had shoved down his extremely girly giddiness at the certain aspect of calling Castiel and getting to hear his voice any time he wants now, Dean took the piece of paper and shoved it down deep into his pocket. And he isn’t even embarrassed to admit that he practically floated on cloud nine the rest of the way to class.

* * *

He made it to the Gym with a few minutes to spare until the bell rings. Pleasantly enough, Benny and Lisa were in there with him. Unpleasantly enough, Gabriel and Anna Milton were in there, too.

“Hey, Stranger. Long time no see.” Benny drawled out in his Louisiana accent as soon as he saw Dean making his way towards them.

Dean rolled his eyes and grinned, “Dude, I just saw you at Bobby’s Garage Shop last week.”

“Hey, Dean.” Lisa greeted, smiling.

At the sight of her, Dean broke out into a dead run and swooped her up in a big bear hug, swinging her around in the air effortlessly, “And how’s my favorite girl?”

She laughed as she started to bang her fists lightly on his chest, “Dean, let me go!”

“Sorry, I forgot. Mr. Pre-Med student is gonna get jealous.” Dean teased as he reluctantly released her onto the ground.

Lisa rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the huge smile off her face at the mentioning of her new boyfriend, “David is a sweet guy, Dean. He’s good to me.”

“I bet he’s not better than me in the sack, right?” At the look of Lisa’s bright red guilty face, Dean knew his answer and started to grin proudly.

“Has Ben finally takin’ a likin’ to him?” Benny asked her, causing Lisa’s smile to drop. Ben was Lisa’s eight year old little brother. Lisa used to be a party girl that got wasted every weekend but ever since both of her parents had suddenly died in a car crash a little over seven months ago, she had become Ben’s legal guardian and sobered up as she took on a whole lot of responsibility. When Lisa started to date Dean, Ben had taken an extra liking to him instantly and practically worshipped the ground he walked on. But ever since they had finally decided to call it quits for good a few months ago after dating on and off for four years, Ben tried to chase off every guy that comes in a five foot radius of his big sister.

Lisa shrugged as she tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, “He doesn’t blatantly glare at him every time he’s at the house anymore.”

“I can talk to him about it if you want.” Dean offered, knowing Ben would probably listen to him.

Lisa smiled her famous grin that always made Dean’s heart melt, “Thanks, Dean. That would be great.”

Dean liked Lisa. A lot. She gave him everything he could ever possibly want: stability, warm encouragement, a second place to call home, a loving and loyal girlfriend that always laughed at his stupid jokes that nobody else appreciated…but it just never clicked. Sure, their relationship was nice and all…but he wanted something that felt _right_ , and that something just wasn’t with Lisa. No matter how much he wanted her to be, Lisa wasn’t the right girl for him and Dean had finally accepted that. He had broken it off with her and thankfully, they both said no hard feelings and still remained close friends. Now, she was dating an aspiring future doctor named David and Dean…well, Dean still hadn’t found his own perfect happy ending yet. Maybe he never would. He didn’t know for sure anymore considering that he’s dated and/or slept with almost every girl in this whole school and still hadn’t found anyone of them particularly special.

He heard Benny starting to tease Lisa about something that had happen during fourth period as his mind started to drift off yet again to Castiel, his stomach instantly tightening at the thought of seeing him again today. As if the two Miltons had heard his thoughts, Anna and Gabriel’s gaze suddenly snap to him as they started to talk to each other in harsh whispers. They looked like they were arguing about something, but Dean wasn’t close enough to make out their words. He then saw the two finally stop fighting to glare at him, causing Dean to quickly shift his gaze back to his friends.

But thankfully, the bell finally rang, causing their gym teacher, Gordon Walker, to walk out of his office and tell them to go get changed. Dean used to like Gordon since he was a friend of his dad’s and sometimes accompanied them on deer hunting trips, but that all changed when he started to be cruel to Sammy and leer at Jo every time she walked by. But apparently, the guy still hadn’t gotten the hint and treated Dean like royalty.

Dean started to walk to the boy’s locker room when he was tripped by someone’s foot and was sent sailing down to the floor, landing hard flat on his face. Most students started dying laughing as Mr. Walker blew his whistle and shouted, “Gabriel Milton, I don’t have any time for your nonsense this year!” **_Of course,_** Dean silently scoffed to himself, **_who else but fucking Gabriel?_**

“It was an accident, Coach. I promise.” He heard Gabriel reply a little too innocently as he attempted to get Dean to his feet. But as he was helping Dean up, Gabe leaned in and said lowly in his ear, “I saw your little prank on my baby brother at lunch today, you arrogant asshole. Just don’t think your actions won’t go unpunished.”

Dean swallowed hard and looked up to see Gabriel smiling sweetly (and a tad bit maliciously) at him as he patted the invisible dirt off of his clothes and started walking towards the locker room. Dean began to follow him but threw one last glance over his shoulder only to find Anna staring at him with a glint of hatred and something that looked oddly like curiosity in her eyes before she finally got swept up into a crowd of girls and disappeared into their own locker room. He let out a long breath that he didn’t know he was holding and lowered his gaze as he disappeared into the room to get changed, not letting himself forget about the Milton family that probably wouldn’t stop until they had Dean’s head on a silver platter.

* * *

Thankfully, the period went by and nothing else dangerous nor threatening happened, though Dean knew that wouldn’t last for long. **_Note to self: Stay away from Gabriel and his sick twisted mind full of deadly pranks and elements of torture._**

When the school day finally came to an end, Dean found himself heading toward the detention hall, thinking of all of the possible things he could do for the next longest three hours of his life. But after five minutes of sitting down in a random desk and glaring at the walls, Ms. Tapping suddenly walked into the room. **_Can my day get any worse,_** Dean mentally groaned in his head as his suffering amplified double with the Wicked Witch of the Bitch was here to watch his lonely imprisonment.

“Dean Winchester,” Ms. Tapping said in a clear and somewhat disgruntled tone, “Please step out into the hallway with me for a moment.” What could she possibly want from him now? **_Probably my immortal soul,_** Dean answered as he slowly got out of his seat and made his way out of the classroom with Ms. Tapping following close at his heels. As soon as she shut the door and put her cold unforgiving eyes on him, Dean couldn’t help but think with dread, **_this will be the day I die._**

“I’m relieving you of your afternoon detentions.” She told him stiffly, making it obvious she wasn’t happy about what she saying.

Okay, not what he was expecting.

“E-Excuse me?” He stuttered out, his eyes wide in shock and not really believing what he had just heard.

Ms. Tapping sighed, “My nephew has informed me of his project with you and persuaded me to terminate your afternoon sentencing of detention for the duration of your assignment together.”

At first, he didn’t know what she was talking about until something clicked in his mind, “You mean Cas?”

“His name is _Castiel_ ,” She snapped, “There should be no reason to shorten and butcher a perfectly good name with a lazy replacement. And to your question: yes, I am his aunt.”

Dean gulped and nodded, “Um…lucky him.”

“Yes, I don’t want his grades to suffer at the unfortunate luck of being stuck with someone like yourself as a partner.”

Dean tried his hardest not to glare at the pompous bitch and put up his most convincing fake smile, “Yes, Ma’am.”

She nodded, “He will be allowed to work on the project with you for one hour outside of school only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” She paused before adding, “And Dean?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Castiel better not receive a bad grade on his paper because of your laziness and incompetence or you will be answering to me personally. Is that clear?”

Dean locked his jaw, “Of course, Ms. Tapping.”

She smiled, “Good. Now, get off of school grounds this instance.”

Dean forced up a smile as he walked towards the door, “Yes, of course. It was an absolute _pleasure_ to see you again, Ma’am.”

“This does not affect your morning detention, Mr. Winchester.” Ms. Tapping called after him as he quickly left the building, “I want to see you in the detention hall bright and early tomorrow morning!”

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get off of sentencing completely. He made his way over to the Impala only to find Sam standing impatiently beside it. **_Oh shit, I forgot about Sammy,_** Dean realized, knowing that if it wasn’t for Castiel and his magnificent ability to control his bitchy aunt, Sam would have waited there for three whole hours before Dean would’ve finally found him. Yea, that wouldn’t have gone over good with the parents.

“Dean, where the hell have you been?” Sam demanded once he finally saw Dean moving towards him, “I’ve been waiting for, like, ten minutes!”

“Stop your complaining, Princess. I just had to talk to the principal for a few minutes after school.” He told him as he unlocked the door and got into the driver’s seat.

“What about?” Sam asked as he climbed into the car and buckled in.

Dean shrugged as he started the engine and began to pull out of the parking lot, “Just stuff, that’s all.”

“Did you get into trouble or anything?”

Dean sighed, “It’s no big deal, Sam. Just that Mom or Ellen will be driving you to school for the next couple weeks, okay?”

“Was it because of me?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he gazed sadly at his big brother.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Of course not. You know me; always having trouble with authority and all that other jazz.”

Sam nodded and smiled, deciding to change the subject, “So how was your day?”

He started to grin uncontrollably, “It was good. Really good, actually. How about you?”

Sam began to beam, “It was _amazing_! I met tons of new people and all my teachers love me! Like, one time in sixth period…” Sam prattled on and on about his day and Dean tried his best to listen, but his thoughts always seemed to lead back to Cas and how he had literally saved Dean’s life from dying of boredom and getting heavily scolded by his parents. He then remembered that he was supposed to see him again today and desperately tried to convince himself that the butterflies in his stomach probably meant nothing.

* * *

As soon as he got home, Dean darted into his bedroom and dug out Castiel’s phone number that was wedged deep in his pocket. He typed it into his contacts and started to write him a text message:

_To: Cas_

_From: Dean_

_Hi, thnks for gettin me off of detention with ur aunt. U can cum here early now if u want –Dean_

He hit send and waited anxiously for his reply, hoping Cas didn’t just prank him with a fake number and wasn’t laughing at his expense right now (even though he doubted that was true, a guy couldn’t help but worry). Dean didn’t have to wait long though before his cellphone buzzed.

_To: Dean_

_From: Cas_

_Hello, Dean. It was no trouble getting Naomi to reconsider your punishment. She takes my studies very seriously so it didn’t take much to convince her to let you go. Are you okay with me coming over to your house at five?_

Dean instantly typed his reply and hit send:

_To: Cas_

_From: Dean_

_Five’s cool. I’ll be here at my house. U remember my address?_

Dean waited only a few moments before Castiel replied back:

_To: Dean_

_From: Cas_

_I remember your address perfectly, Dean. I’ll be at your house a five o’clock._

Dean didn’t even try to wipe the huge goofy grin off his face as he raced down the stairs to try and act normal for the remaining one hour, thirty-three minutes, and fifty-two seconds. Not that he was counting, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos/Bookmarks would be lovely, thank you.


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